


Deadly Affinity

by AwkwardBlackCat



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Language, F/M, Hypocrisy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love/Hate, Manipulation, Past Abuse, Revenge, Romance, Sexual Content, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 51
Words: 298,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBlackCat/pseuds/AwkwardBlackCat
Summary: Lanfen is desperate to leave behind her sister's tainted legacy, but an affinity for danger and a series of poor decisions quickly complicate her plans to find a future apart from the past. After meeting Hisoka in the 286th Hunter Exam, her admiration for him and his interest in her only creates a game Lan is sure to lose. Already a target for her sister's item, a fateful meeting in Yorknew City only seals her fate. Pursued at every turn, forced to confront a past filled with obsession and revenge, trust is hard to find amid fellow liars and thieves.
Relationships: Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter)/Original Character(s), Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Original Character(s)
Comments: 120
Kudos: 226





	1. Introduction: Beginning of a Mistake

Nervous anticipation seized her the second she entered the crowded room. Applicants stood apart, standoffish as they gauged the competition with critical eyes. The energy in the room was a stagnant pond of nerves and adrenaline a moment away from becoming a whirlpool of fear and excitement.

The 286th Hunter Exam… Lanfen wondered what it would entail, how many of these hopefuls would make it through to the end, prize in hand. She found herself honestly surprised to see such a crowd crammed into the space connected to a humble thrift store. It wasn't particularly easy to reach the exam site, after all.

The trip here, for her, had been a traveler's nightmare. All the way on the other side of the world sat Anchi -southern neighbor of the Kakin Kingdom- where she loosely called home, the exam taking place on the coast of Southeast Yorbia, nearing the Balsa Islands. If the distance alone wasn't daunting, then the trickery made up for it. The airship taking applicants had listed under a commercial flight, yet that had been a lie meant to fool the unwary. Lan had almost fallen for it, standing in line, until it struck her that everyone around her seemed weak and untrained, if not gullible. Instead, an ancient unmarked cargo airship on the other side of the airport had been the actual transport. Until it crashed. A few thousand kilometers away from the destination. On purpose. The captain blatantly announced over the intercom for them to brace for impact, that if they couldn't brave out this much, they weren't fit for the exam. The fiery explosion had been marvelous, drowning out the screams of those unfortunate souls too slow to escape.

From the ill-fated airship, Lan had to find alternate transportation. A train ran from the city nearest to the crash to a town only a few hundred kilometers from the supposed exam site (as, at that point, she came to expect this to be deceptively difficult as well). A few other applicants had had the same idea as her, the small group gathering in the train station in their smoke-and-ash-coated clothes. Catching the train had been another chore, as it left the station just as they neared it, conductor's voice taunting them as he forced her and several others to run and jump to get aboard. At least it was free, she supposed.

But then she tracked down a navigator! Outside the next town, she searched out an aura she suspected belonged to a Hunter assisting with the exam, now operating under the impression that many people had to be involved in this conspiracy of weeding out the weak. The navigator's name… Well, she honestly never bothered to learn his name properly, but he had been very willing to show her to the exam after a demonstration of her competence- otherwise known as her detailed gushing and fawning over his pet. His ride had been a million times better than an airship. Oh, Flala had been the most darling cloud vulture she'd ever seen! Such fluffy white feathers, vibrant pink bald head, nastily curved beak, and sharpened talons… Riding on the giant scavenger's back to get the exam site had been blissful, especially when it took a small detour to snap up the fly-covered corpse of a deer.

Admittedly, she had played with the bird longer than she intended. One didn't often get the chance to see a nasty-tempered vulture known for shredding apart the unwary merely for stepping too close to a carcass. She appreciated the navigator's enthusiasm as he told her how he raised Flala from a chick after poachers killed the parents; he said he was a 'Beast Hunter' interested in preservation. Perhaps lacking violence, but she had no other title in mind yet. His was at least one to consider after she got a license. Assuming she passed, she corrected, not wanting to err on the side of arrogance quite yet.

She glanced at her chest to the tag affixed to her shirt, tilting it to read the number again: 387. A high number considering she might have been one of the earlier arrivals. Playing with Flala had been worth it, though.

After staring at the badge another moment, she sighed at the sight of her clothes and hair. Her guise disappointed her. Long hair, in the way even with it tied back. While she quite liked her traditional Anchi clothing for its convenient pockets and layers, it caused further inconvenience. If her face and name didn't give her away, her clothes ensured recognition. If only her sister hadn't ruined anonymity for her, she wouldn't have had to go through such ridiculous lengths to even attempt the Hunter Exam. This set of convoluted lies had taken a few years to get into place. All of this effort just to avoid a reputation, how silly.

But not everything could be blamed on her sister. Lan's recent hobbies did nothing to help her seem unassuming. Petty theft with Nemmi wasn't very becoming of a Hunter (although she wasn't aware if the Association took notice of such insignificant, impulsive thievery). And, well, there was also the matter of those Hunters…

She shuttered at the thought, lips twitching, trying to keep her heart from erratically beating out of her chest. The thrill of a predator tracking prey. The adrenaline rushing though her as her life hung in the balance. The warm blood spurting from open wounds. She carefully bit her lip, smile threatening to creep into the open as her control wavered. The atmosphere and promised challenge of the exam had her _way_ too giddy. Nemmi would be screaming in her ear if she lost her control so easily, wasting the last few years of her effort over memories. Drawing attention to herself, she couldn't. Not yet. Not here.

Her goal in taking the exam, she mentally repeated it to redirect herself back to her priorities. A license and proper training, that's why she was there. Fighting needlessly would prevent her from reaching her goal. Concentration and restraint, she needed it here more than anywhere else.

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

Lanfen did as the rest of the applicants, eyes quickly scanning over the room, searching the competition. Her attention briefly lingered on a few that appeared smug, practiced. People that had perhaps taken the exam before, she decided. A man wearing a turban, an assortment of adorable snakes poking their heads out from his clothing, caught her attention first. Then a man with sunglasses and a ruffle-necked shirt carrying a large weapon of some sort. She also noticed a group of three younger men standing together, similar facial features suggesting they were related. While she noticed the stout, older man approaching her, she ignored him completely as her eyes fell on _him_.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

Despite his unusual, flamboyant clothing and vibrant red hair reminiscent of a clown's (a jester, if she was nice), that man, he radiated pure danger. As he flawlessly shuffled a deck of cards between his hands, she could see the toned muscles in his arm flex, his pointed nails catching the dim lights of the room. His face, with sharp golden eyes and an unnerving smile, made her heart drum against her chest. And his aura, so controlled and refined, she marveled at its lethal glow.

If this were a romance, she believed she would be seeing bursting pink hearts. But for murder. Fighting him would be absolutely thrilling. She nearly drooled over the foolish idea, as this man was the strongest person she had ever seen. Those Hunters, they were nothing compared to the predator standing across the room. A chaotic force of nature far outside her realm of experience… The irrational side of her wanted to forget the exam to challenge this man, to witness what true power looked like, felt like. She wanted to test just how weak she was against someone as beautifully deadly as him. She wanted the adrenaline rush of facing an embodiment of death.

Her overly zealous bloodlust flared when those golden, glinting eyes met her own.

* * *

Hisoka lazily glanced in the direction that he felt an intense stare from. He expected anger or fear, perhaps from someone that recognized him for one reason or another. Instead he found a young woman staring at him with a fascinating combination of love-struck, murderous eyes. Her bloodlust tickled his skin.

A Nen-user. Perhaps the only one here besides himself and the examiners (such a disappointment, as he expected the exam to have much stronger potential toys than the few reality offered him). Her aura appeared somewhat untrained and rough, but the potential certainly existed. Right now, she tried to reign in her emotion, stifle her aura, tame her Nen until it once more became calm and uninteresting. Not to lose his attention, as her stare remained fixed on him, but that of those nearby her that unconsciously became uncomfortable with the energy.

With their eyes still locked, his smile widened, returning her bloodlust with a bit of his own. The reaction was spectacular, her pale blue aura clawing against his desperately. Her face maintained its awe-filled expression, eyes round in reverence, even as her hands shook in terror. Brave or foolish? He stopped shuffling his cards, making them disappear in one flourished movement. She showed no reaction to the magic trick. Those caramel eyes never left his face. Alert, aware of how dangerous he was, yet still transfixed with admiration… Curious little thing.

He flicked another card into his fingers, twirling it, her eyes intently watching as his aura crept into the card.

It almost impaled the rookie-crusher approaching her, the edge catching her shirt as she leaned away from the card aimed to slice open her neck. His eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

Overall, interesting enough to play with, he supposed. Once they were away from the distracting nothings of this crowd, he'd have to give her an actual test, decide her worth, kill her or allow her to ripen dependent on the results. A bit of fun in this otherwise boring exam. He licked his lips in anticipation as he turned away, allowing his new toy freedom from his analytical gaze.

For now.

* * *

Lan retreated to the other side of the room, fingers twitching as she held the playing card she'd pried from the stone wall. His Shu had been spectacular… _He_ had been spectacular. That taste of bloodlust had her _shaking_. Oh, how she wanted more than a glimpse, yet also how positively stupid fighting him would be.

She had no problem admitting how outmatched she would be against him. A few minutes, she guessed, would be all she could hold out against him, assuming she used her Hatsu and prioritized escape over battle.

But she couldn't do that here. A Hatsu, molded to an individual's personality, would be easily identifiable. If she wanted to keep her Hunter persona apart from her other activities, there would be absolutely no using her Hatsu during the exam. Again, it took her quite some time to prepare for the exam, and Nemmi would be very upset if she banned him from joining her only for her to screw it up to fight some random, amazingly powerful, stranger for fun.

Yet, now, she had the man's attention. Those curious golden eyes had filled with unsettling amusement when she avoided that card… This magician didn't appear ready to return to ignoring her presence.

One look might have been enough to ruin her chances of passing…

The exam didn't allow her to consider the ramifications of her lapse in judgement. With the startling noise of rusted metal echoing against stone, all attention went to a rising wall. The side of the room opened with agonizing slowness, the dim yellow lights of the room gradually blending with the final wisps of daylight. Once the wall disappeared beyond the ceiling, a cool salt-and-fish breeze filled the formerly stagnant space.

The ocean. In front of them stretched the sparkling blue of the ocean as it began to take on the colors of the sky. There was no pristine beach of sand. Instead, the building sat on a cliff that appeared far above the water below. At the very edge stood a conspicuous man.

He smiled with a knowing smirk, eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses. He held an exceptionally large pipe across his broad shoulders. Silvery hair caught the sunlight as day began to give way to night. While his clothes consisted of a rather dull grey shirt tucked into dark pants, it didn't disguise his muscular, bulky appearance. Whoever he was, he appeared strong, capable, a Hunter in every regard.

The crowd's chatter hushed. They understood what his arrival meant. Lan felt the anticipation well up in her again, quelling her fretting about her new magician acquaintance. Quickly, she had tunnel vision. Her eyes focused on the man standing before them, waiting for instructions.

The exam was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story (up to chapter 45) is posted on fanfiction.net under Deadly Affinity by AwkwardBlackCat. There will be only slight differences between what is posted on FF and Ao3, mainly that the Ao3 version is edited for better clarity and detail consistency (and possibly additions to explicit scenes later on). So, read ahead on FF or get the more polished version here! 
> 
> As a side-note, while mostly canon-compliant, I will not be re-hashing existing scenes. Mostly referencing them and adding new scenes that can exist simultaneously. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Crossing an Ocean: Mutual Intrigue

"I'm Morel Mackernasey, examiner for the first phase," he announced, breaking the silence presiding over the applicants. "I'll be showing you to the next phase." Morel pointed a thumb over his shoulder, easily maintaining his pipe's balance. The horizon remained empty except for ocean and sky. "If you're not willing to risk your life, then don't bother following."

The cryptic statement and insult sent the crowd of participants into hushed panic. The mass stepped closer to the edge, Lan included, her curiosity mixing with mild dread and annoyance. Some searched for a boat, others for a path down the steep cliff. Lan, being towards the back of the mass, listened to the concerned whispers of participants as they saw no boats, no easy paths, and no sign of their destination. Lan presumed it would be an island, yet she only saw open waters for kilometers. The pit in her stomach grew.

"Try to keep up," Morel said over the nervous chatter. Casually, the man walked off the cliff, heavy pipe still in hand.

Surprise from those at the edge rang out. "How's he swimming with that thing?" "How is he conscious after falling that far?" And, Lanfen's favorite statement for its accuracy, "Are we seriously supposed to swim!? It's almost dark out and there's nothing over there!?"

The startled shouts didn't last long. Those truly invested in becoming a Hunter followed after Morel, leaping off the cliff. Some hit the water wrong, unconscious and soon-to-be-drowned bodies floating before being smashed into paste against sharp rocks. Survivors swam after Morel, who, for now, kept a rather leisurely pace. Lan lost sight of the carefree magician as he stepped over the edge to pursue Morel.

The rest had to decide if they were ready to take the risk of jumping from a cliff into dark waters to swim to an unknown destination.

Lan cursed her luck. Not the strongest swimmer to begin with, she assumed the exam would prove more than just a swim test. No, with no clear destination, with night setting in, it would be as much a physical endurance test as a mental one.

Before plunging in, she had to make some wardrobe changes. She tore off her shirt's sleeves, shredding one into a long ribbon. Thankfully, she had a skin-tight undershirt; thousands of jellyfish stings she didn't notice until on shore again would be very troublesome- she missed Nemmi, dear second set of eyes he was. Next, with her makeshift hair-tie, she pulled her hair back, tightly securing it in a ridiculously large bun. She could only hope saltwater didn't ruin the dye. That makeup had better live up to the 'forever waterproof' claim too. Finally, she removed her shoes, cramming them into the small bag at her hip.

After shoving a few apprehensive remainders aside, she stood at the edge, staring at the barely visible heads bobbing below. Instead of jumping down blindly, she noted where the bodies were, where a few stray rocks jutted from the water, and where the people leaping beside her were likely to land. Then she took a few hesitant steps back, ran forward with reckless abandon, held her breath, and threw herself off the ledge in a rush of air.

She hit the water with a splash. Everything grew dark as her head dipped below the surface, blue overwhelming and disturbingly serene as she plunged deeper and deeper into the abyss. Panic threatened to make her gasp. She began swimming upwards. The water felt pleasantly warm until her head popped above the surface into the chilly breeze, air burning her lungs. It would only worsen as the night dragged on. During the next phase, they would all be wearing soaked clothes on a cold night. Assuming they reached their destination before daybreak. Assuming she didn't drown.

What a miserable way to start the exam…

* * *

The sun had set a few hours ago. In the dark, many people failed the exam. Some chose to turn back while they still had the energy. A decent number drowned as exhaustion set in, or as pain overcame them after brushing past the stray jellyfish. Even as an island's shadow loomed in the distance, complaints about the grueling test were said between spitting out ocean water and tired breaths.

Lanfen fixated on Morel to distract herself from the boredom of swimming in an empty, endless, dark ocean while knowing she would smell like a salty fish the rest of the exam. The examiner fascinated her. Morel effortlessly held that large pipe, swimming with his face below the water for ridiculously long stretches of time. His lung capacity was incredible. She wondered what sort of Hunter he was, since he neglected to mention it. Something involving water, surely, otherwise his lung capacity would be a waste. Unless, of course, his Nen abilities involved breathing. And smoke, perhaps, considering the pipe. Fighting him would also be fun, she decided. He did not intimidate and intrigue her in the way the magician did, but Morel was clearly strong too. She felt he deserved to be judging the potential of hopeful Hunters, herself included.

The water burst with neon lights.

Lan slowed, treading water. With every move, the water glowed a beautiful, eerie blue. Bioluminescent algae… She'd never seen it in person. The glow twinkled with the stars above, pale moonlight blending with soft blue. It was mesmerizing to watch the trails of light forming in every movement's wake. She couldn't help making a few extra strokes, a genuine smile creeping onto her face. Such tiny creatures making such a beautiful display… It almost made swimming worthwhile.

People around her mirrored her awe. A few splashed to make brilliant glows around them, water shimmering brightly in the night. For a few moments, they forgot they were in the middle of an exam noted for its fatalities and its difficulty. They were children experiencing the wonder of the world.

A strangled scream at her side pulled her away from the hypnotic lights. Cruel reality returned. Lan and the people beside her looked around for the source, finding nothing, not remembering who swam by them in the dark, if someone had disappeared. It was then that Lan noticed another dim glow under the water. She watched as it moved, heading towards a frightened man flailing in his haste, the algae glaringly bright around him.

Giant jaws broke the surface, teeth snapping onto the man's arm. Lan stopped swimming entirely as she watched the man disappear, only a trail of bubbles and blood left behind. She didn't recognize the fish by name, but committed the sail-like fin on its back and dark body covered with light, dimly glowing stripes to memory to identify later. More fish snapped up participants desperately trying to swim towards the shoreline in the distance.

Lan considered using Zetsu to hide, thinking better of it when she realized it would be pointlessly dangerous. The fish attacked the bright flashes of algae; Zetsu would just leave her entirely defenseless.

She looked to Morel. He continued swimming, face in the water, not even glancing at the carnage. For the first time in a while, she caught sight of red hair. The magician also ignored the fish, completely calm as those around him screeched before being dragged under. A moments' comparison between Morel and the magician to those being eaten revealed splashing to be the deciding factor.

Carefully, Lan took a few cautious strokes, checking the brightness of the algae. She kept going when no fish darted for her. Agitating the water too much would mean death. Those too panicked or foolish to see that weren't worthy of becoming a Hunter, she learned. What a ruthlessly effective way of weeding out the weak, this exam.

* * *

They reached the shore as the first rays of sunlight made it over the horizon and through the gathering clouds. Morel bid them farewell, leaving them to wait for the second phase examiner- and, after a few pointed words from suspicious participants, Morel assured them that this wasn't some trick. He then proceeded to walk back into the ocean and swim off, not appearing exhausted at all. An amazing man indeed.

The island itself had a decently sized, sandy beach that gradually became rough terrain. A single, formidable mountain was at the center of the island: rocky, dry, and sparsely vegetated. It could be assumed, at some point, they would be scaling said mountain. Lan didn't mind that prospect, but the clouds overhead were growing ominous, hinting at a storm. Being soaked again didn't rate high on her list of enjoyable things.

Taking advantage of the small break became Lanfen's priority. She ignored the complaints of injured participants- some wailing in apparent pain.

Instead, she pulled off the remains of her outer shirt, squeezing out as much seawater as possible before putting the uncomfortably damp and cold cloth back on. Standing in the cool morning air while sopping wet felt truly miserable and almost demotivating. The best she could do without stripping down, which could wait until she found seclusion, would be to attempt to wring out her water-logged hair.

* * *

Hisoka ran a hand through his hair, fixing it back into place, as his clothes finished dripping seawater onto the sand.

The first phase had been… entertaining enough. Nothing too difficult, but the fish devouring screaming fools were a nice addition. The examiner, though, had been his true interest. Morel seemed like he'd make for a decent fight. The man flawlessly ignored Hisoka's every attempt to instigate some fun, after all.

His eyes shifted from the rock the next examiner had hidden themselves behind, returning to his curious new toy. The girl's face scrunched in slight disgust as she wrung out her long black hair. She didn't appear to be paying attention to her surroundings; this disappointed him. His eyes slid down her body, taking in her appearance, deciding if she still held his interest. A decently pretty face marked with three small moles, one under her left eye, two on her right cheek, about average height, rather small frame with musculature hidden beneath layers of clothes... Rather unremarkable looking without her aura and expression, he decided. She failed to notice his leering stare, further disappointing him.

 _But what do we have here?_ His eyes narrowed with renewed interest, smile reappearing. Attached to her leg was a large leech. And, from how engorged the creature appeared, it had been on her since their arrival on shore, if not longer.

Any other time, and a little wriggling leech would have been utterly boring. Right now, though, as a dozen or so others screeched at the top of their lungs about the pain said leech caused, her lack of reaction _fascinated_ him. She showed no acknowledgement to the creature; her visible discomfort only appeared as she squeezed water out of her hair. Either her pain tolerance was incredible or she couldn't physically feel the leech biting her. Both possibilities had him enthralled in the strange girl once more.

So much so that he couldn't help messing with her, if only a bit. It wouldn't be satisfying to play her to death so soon.

* * *

A hand landed on her shoulder.

Her heart rocketed while her body froze. She even kept hold of her hair, arms raised, torso defenseless. From the corner of her eye, she saw pale skin and neatly pointed nails. While his grip didn't quite reach crushing, she wouldn't go as far as to say it was gentle. The weight of his hand felt like a pallet of bricks considering her vulnerable state; she doubted her reaction time would outdo his. She didn't dare glance at his face as his mouth lingered much too near her ear. He had taken the time to show her just how outmatched she was by sneaking up on her, invading her personal space.

She cursed herself for dropping her guard in the name of comfort and vanity.

"I find you worth humoring. For now," the magician said, voice a low purr, somehow bridging a gap between playful and threatening. It made her want to sputter in fear as much as shake in excitement. Danger truly brought out the worst side of her...

His hand slipped from her shoulder after an agonizing silence, releasing her, sparing her from death. _For now_ , she reminded. Whatever she had initiated earlier would come back to haunt her. She could hear it in that mischievous tone of his.

"It'd be a shame if you broke before I had the chance to play with you," he continued, voice nearly a dramatic sigh as he stepped away. The wicked smile on his face made her heart skip, her aura trying to flare defensively despite her resistance. Her reaction seemed to amuse him, creepy grin somehow growing wider. For someone caked in ridiculous makeup, star and teardrop painted on his cheeks, he knew how to intimidate and terrify through demeanor alone. "So… Do something about your leg, won't you? It'd be dreadfully boring if you can't fight back," he said, already slinking away, words a warning as much as a promise.

In one final taunt, he raised his hand, flashing the face of a card towards her. Seven of spades. The same card that he'd thrown at her earlier. The card she had in her bag until moments ago when he magically stole it back.

Her eyes shot downward once she returned from her fear-and-awe daze. A lamprey the size of her forearm wriggled on her right calf, guzzling blood. Immediately she sat down, hands wrapping around the slippery creature as she tried to pry it off. She didn't recognize the particular species, but now that she'd been reminded to always pay attention to everything around her, even her own limbs, she heard it. The people screaming in pain also incorrectly screeched out the word _leech_. She hoped it wasn't venomous, that it was just the razor-edged teeth lining its mouth causing the suffering. Having her leg rot off didn't sound very pleasant considering how difficult finishing the exam would be. Superficial cuts she could at least deal with.

An indignant toss sent the creature back into the ocean.

This sort of thing was exactly why she missed Nemmi. When she failed to notice something, Nemmi would noisily complain until she took care of the issue. That lamprey would have been gone the second she left the water instead of ten minutes later when the magician pitied her enough to tell her about it- all to presumably kill her while she remained entertaining based on what he had said. Nemmi constituted much of her impulse control, too.

Nemmi would never let her live this down… Having a lamprey on her was one thing, but she doubted the magician had missed such an oddity. Not with his ever-judging gaze. He would have a lot of fun cutting her up.

 _Way to go, Lanfen. Way. To. Go._ She couldn't hold back from sighing at her own stupidity. 

Much like her Hatsu, she'd rather avoid having the Association know this too. This would just further connect her to her sister, possibly eliciting more suspicion, and then involve her in her sister's bullshit again. She was _never_ going back to that.

"HELLO!" A shrill voice shouted, everyone's eyes going to an odd woman yelling from atop a sizable boulder. She wore an excessive amount of flower-print clothing, chrysanthemum hairpins clipped in cotton candy hair. While petite and rather… child-like… in behavior, she appeared in her twenties. Maybe. "Naptime's over everybody! And congratulations on passing the first phase!" Pep radiated off her almost nauseatingly. "We're going to start the second phase right away, with me as your examiner!"


	3. Treasure Hunt: Rendezvous in the Rain

The woman decorated in flowers smiled too cheerfully considering the still-screaming participants on the beach. "I'm Tali, Miss Cluck's number one assistant! She's one of the Zodiacs, and a very, very renowned Botanical Hunter! It's so cool working for her," she gushed, eyes sparkling. Lanfen sincerely hoped she didn't look like that when it came to her interests. Tali excitedly added, "I'm a Botanical Hunter too!"

Tali paused, eyes skating over the crowd with a new, more devious expression. A certain magician's aura flared ever so slightly. Lan tensed. She saw the deck of cards magically appear in the magician's hands.

The rock Tali perched on exploded as her feet left it. She landed on the ground, giving a ridiculous twirl, ignoring the magician's antics like several other cards hadn't been aimed for vitals.

"For the second phase, I want you all to meet me on the other side of the mountain," Tali announced without missing a beat. Before the crowd broke out into inevitable chatter, she held up a finger to shush them. " _And_ ," she stressed, "I want you to bring me something valuable that you find along the way! It can be anything as long as it's valuable, since I can't be too picky. Chairman Netero will be very cross with me if I get too choosy… He can be scarier than Miss Cluck!" Her smile faltered. The Chairman must be intimidating to quiet someone so absurdly peppy. "So, anything you bring me, I'll judge! I like plants the most, of course, but creativity and demonstrating your worldly knowledge will also impress me!" Tali leaned forward, holding up two fingers, grin growing. "You have two days from when I say go." She rocked on her heels, straightening her back.

Complaints quickly filled the pause. The loudest man's voice reached Tali, the examiner giving a wicked grin.

"You expect us to climb that in two days?" he screamed, pointing at the mountain for emphasis. "We just got done swimming all night, and haven't even been given a break! There's no way any of us are going to pass like this!"

Lan sort of wanted to laugh at the complaint. Obviously, the examiners, and by extension the Association, didn't care if anyone passed. They definitely didn't care that their exam killed hundreds every year. And sure, the task sounded laborious, but not as impossible as he seemed to think.

"You just had a break, silly!" Tali said, her voice honey sweet, smile mocking. "Hunters don't have time to take naps like school children. I suggest you drop out now if this is all the endurance you have." She shrugged. "You'll just end up getting in the way before dying."

The man charged her. In the blink of an eye he found himself in a half-meter deep hole, staring at the grey sky as his world presumably spun with stars.

"So, get going everyone! I'll see you on the other side," she chirped, like nothing happened. Examiners didn't suffer fools.

Lan saw no point in lingering. She walked with the crowd, intending to find a more secluded path when the crowd thinned to do the same. While her brain screamed to go the opposite direction of the smirking magician as fast as she could, she watched as Tali boldly approached him.

"This is your last warning, mister," she said, smiling up at the far taller magician. "The next time you're a naughty boy, you're going to be disqualified."

"I'll try very hard to behave." His voice was anything but sincere. "I would hate for you to have to punish me."

Lan picked up her pace. She even shoved past a few people to put distance between her and her unfortunate fan. That purr of his, sexual advance or a creepy invite to battle, Lanfen did _not_ care. The uncomfortable combination of butterflies fluttering over a pit in her stomach told her to run before his attention returned to her. And she listened to that instinct by sprinting away from the main crowd. Unlike swimming, hiking left him the perfect opportunity to pursue her. Without Nemmi's En and scouting capabilities, she essentially made it impossible for her to track the magician, easily allowing him to sneak up on her _like he had already proven himself capable of_.

This wasn't an entirely new feeling to her, being the prey instead of the predator, but unnerving all the same. She used Zetsu in her paranoia of being followed. Lan had nothing to lose now in using it. She knew her Nen defenses sucked; it was why she needed a damn Nen instructor in the first place. Her first one had been too wary of 'hurting her' to teach her to defend herself properly. _What a bunch of idiots_.

"I'm an idiot too, Nemmi," she hissed under breath. "I just had to ogle the first capable Nen-user I saw, right?" Where Nemmi would usually react, she mentally sighed, too busy breathing. "I know, I'm a dumbass." Another silence. "I still want to fight him, though," she whispered, imagining Nemmi chiding her for the response, as true as it was. Danger and that man were synonymous. And danger, she _adored_ danger.

The flat ground began to steeply incline. Soon she would be scaling an unstable, crumbling rock wall. The first spit of rain chose then to fall from the darkened clouds overhead, making her day that much better. She hadn't dried out from the swim, and now she would be climbing slick, muddy rocks. She took back every passing thought about this exam being easy; it was torture.

Mostly self-inflicted torture considering most of her problems came from her own decisions, but still torture. And fun, in a death-defying, exhilarating way.

* * *

Hisoka lazily trailed two participants, already bored with them. Dreadfully so, he might add. They had absolutely no potential. That's why he decided they were worthy only of being stepping stones for him to pass this phase of the exam.

"My, my," he muttered to himself, smile replacing bored indifference, "who do we have here?"

His new favorite toy had come out of Zetsu, his cheap replacements closing in on her. The poor girl, he must have frightened her earlier. She ran off before he had a chance to play with her beyond sneaking up behind her. By coincidence he now had her cornered, nearly all to himself if the disappointments were to disappear. _And how easily that could be arranged_.

Through sheets of rain, the little scene became visible, Hisoka observing instead of interfering. The girl had been in the midst of scaling a rock wall slick with mud, the two other participants on a ledge below her.

"Dude, she has a bag," his target yelled, pointing to said item at her hip. They still didn't notice him; so disappointing. "She might have something!"

She didn't grant him even a glance, continuing to hastily climb. The man studded full of piercings picked up a rock, limply chucking it at her. It bounced off her back, her only reaction the flickering of her aura.

"Stay down here, and keep throwing rocks," the other, bulkier man said, grabbing his machete, biting the blade to climb after her.

Hisoka chuckled lightly as rock after rock pelted her, her aura screaming with annoyance and frustration. Did she not like killing, perhaps? Without a doubt, she could be rid of these two in a few seconds if she wanted. Or, did she sense him and not want to come down? He saw no point in hiding himself, especially when he craved attention to stave off complete boredom. Her ignoring him, how it _wounded_ him. If she continued to climb, he would have to pull her back down so they could have a proper _chat_.

A rock hit the back of her head, aura flaring. In that moment, the second man climbed high enough to swing the machete at her feet. He had prodded a sleeping beast, the last of her patience thinning until she snapped in a lovely display.

She let go. Her feet smashed into the man's face, muffling his pained groan, knocking him from the rocks to the ledge below. He rolled off the edge with a final screech, bones snapping as he dropped down the cliff face. The smell of blood lingered in the air but a second before rain dampened the familiar scent.

The girl skidded down to the ledge, Nen-shrouded hand cutting rock, landing gracefully despite the mess of black hair hanging in front of her eyes. Dripping wet and covered in mud, makeup streaked down her face, the only thing that would improve her wild look was being covered in blood. The pierced man took a fearful step back as she turned to him. Hisoka fought interrupting, her bloodlust rolling over him in delicious waves, enticing him. He wanted a taste of her potential now, yet he knew this wasn't the time or place to have a satisfying fight. Devouring unripe fruit always left a bittersweet aftertaste. But that temptation, oh, it was ever present. Maybe he could play with her just a little…

She caught a desperately thrown rock from the pierced man as he helplessly quivered. A bit more bloodlust and the weak man would have been paralyzed, brain slipping to unconsciousness, will to live being crushed by her unrestrained will to kill.

Hisoka barely registered it as she threw a rock through the man's upper thigh, causing him to topple over in a wailing pile. Another rock crashed into the ground at Hisoka's feet. The pebble drove itself far into the ground, creating a deep hole. Shu, he easily recognized. She had some skill at it herself.

When his eyes met hers, she had her bloodlust tamed, making it a bit easier for him to stifle his own before he accidentally broke his new toy. She carefully watched his every move, not looking away as she pushed her hair from her eyes. Her entire body was tense, ready to flee at the slightest sign of danger. Yet she remained, curious despite the wariness, eyes sparking with excitement that she attempted to hide underneath a grim expression. As he drew near, she hopped up to a perch just large enough for her feet.

His laugh didn't send her scurrying. He blamed the man still screaming in agony over a flesh wound, and _that_ , that just wouldn't do. A card appeared between Hisoka's fingers, the girl a second from fleeing in fright.

So, he winked at her, promising, "This isn't for you." His words made her reluctantly straighten her back, knees no longer bent in preparation to jump far away. He sent the card into the man's head to shut him up so they could carry on a proper conversation. That curious cross of admiration and terror, she had so many things to say to him. "It would be such a waste if you fell to your death." Hisoka's tone heavily implied because _I plan to kill you myself_. When, he hadn't decided.

To humor her, he attempted to appear slightly less intimidating, crouching next to the dead man. He first retrieved his blood-soaked card, wrenching it from the split skull, watching her out the corner of his eye. She remained disappointingly silent. Hisoka then pulled a jeweled earring from the dead man's skin, continuing with the other piercings, it a simple, straight-forward way to pass the phase. As he plucked metal from dead flesh, he saw her expression shift to a mix of surprise and fury. Did she not wish to desecrate the dead? Or, more likely…

"Upset you didn't think to do this yourself, little fledgling?" he teased, deciding on a nickname. She reminded him of bird: ready for flight at the slightest danger, watchful eyes when she didn't have tunnel vision, and preening over her appearance often. Fledgling, he chose, mainly because she seemed naïve and inexperienced, if a bit foolish. All to strike a nerve, to begin finding what she truly hated for the sake of entertainment.

"Fledgling?" she repeated, tone amused yet annoyed, expression blank while her eyes showed intrigue. Contradictions and conflictions between her personality and her mask, her awkward charm hinted to which category she most likely fell. "My name's Lan," she offered after watching him continue to pull metal from skin.

She allowed her expectant pause to drag into a pregnant silence, challenging him to a waiting game if it meant satisfying her curiosity. Even when he straightened his back, eyes meeting hers as he grinned widely, she waited through her unease. How bold she became with his half-truth promise not to kill her.

"Hisoka," he hummed, more interested in what she would say or do than standing in silence, waiting for her to snap in annoyance.

"Well, Hisoka, how screwed am I?" Her eyes went wide, immediately regretting her word choice.

" _Very~_ In many ways, I might add." Her body somehow went more rigid, eyes a mix of disgust and mortification at even the tame innuendo. He held back a chuckle as he looked her up and down appraisingly, licking his lips as he went. "I imagine we could have quite a bit of fun together."

Lan appeared one second away from throwing herself off the cliff. Oh, he would have fun with this one.

"I meant," she began again after listening to him laugh as she collected the remains of her pride, "do you intend to kill me now or later?"

"Hmm…" Hisoka leaned back, a hand on his hip and the other on his chin as he pretended to debate his answer. She patiently waited for him to decide her fate. "Later. As I said, I don't want to lose you over a cliff too soon." He'd hate to get all bothered only for her to prematurely die from a nasty fall. Of course, he could just attach Bungee Gum to her and pull her back; that sounded sort of fun now that he thought about it. Very one-sided, though. "Why do you ask, little fledgling?" Hisoka had a feeling this wasn't an attempt to beg for her life, nor to seek an opportunity to run. The first time he felt her bloodlust, he knew he had found a kindred soul. While terrified of him to the core, she wanted to fight him.

"When is later?" she asked, shifting her weight nervously at her decision to ignore his question. "During the exam or after?"

It became obvious that she merely wanted to know how to divide her attention. Focus on passing the mundane tasks of the exam, or on him and their impending playdate. "And when, dear Lan, do you think I'll want you?"

"As soon as possible," she muttered, blank expression breaking to a pout with a hint of revulsion, "provided the given conditions will make it difficult for me to run or die by anything other than you."

She wanted a license more than she wanted a battle, it seemed. Hisoka didn't particularly care if he passed, as he could take it again next year, hopefully pick-up a few more playthings. Chrollo's continual avoidance had begun to drive Hisoka insane; he needed distractions, or he might have all the Spiders at his throat, getting in the way of a cathartic one-on-one battle with Chrollo. It didn't help that he had grown a bit bored with Heaven's Arena lately. Strong opponents were becoming such rare creatures.

"Later, then," Lan said cautiously, watching closely for any sign that he rejected her leaving. She shuffled to the side, her perch narrowing until eventually she would have to turn to climb.

"I will be eagerly awaiting our passionate rendezvous, little fledgling," he cooed, sending the girl scampering away as fast as one could while climbing rock in a downpour.

* * *

At the dawn of day two, Lan found herself scanning the area to find her valuable. On this side of the mountain, the vegetation became more abundant, giving way to a lush forest with meandering streams. With the clear weather and the warm sunlight filtering through the leaves, the nightmarish climb from yesterday seemed a distant memory.

Well, she wished yesterday was a distant memory. In truth, the encounter still had her shaking with a mix of conflicting thoughts, and had her biting her lip in wonder at how much worse she had made the situation by speaking with him instead of running.

Hisoka… His voice made a chill run down her spine both in thrill and terror. Her own idiocy added fuel to the flame, providing him the unfortunate knowledge she didn't take his creepy flirting well- she just didn't know how to react to it, honestly. No matter how hard she tried to appear indifferent, her emotions had a way of slipping out in the most regrettable of moments. Every moment in front of the magician may as well be 'regrettable' considering her lifespan probably lost a few years to stress. Underneath that colorful outward personality and perpetually mischievous grin, Hisoka seemed a dangerously keen predator. Catching his eye likely sealed her dismal fate.

Damn was he captivating. The adrenaline addict in her wanted to fight him regardless of the death-guarantee.

She shook her head, wanting to leave the topic of Hisoka before her bloodlust decided to draw him back to her- the more level ground might convince him to end the sort-of truce they had. Still damp hair slapping her face reminded her of another infuriating thing about Hisoka, though.

His damn makeup! While she about _died_ seeing the streaked mess on her face, his was still utterly perfect! Oh, it made her mad. If she lived through another encounter with him, she had half a mind to ask him what brand he was using. What good was a disguise if it threatened to slide off your face at a little ocean swim and a quick stroll in the rain? Only makeup that held up to the waterproof claim, thankfully, were the two moles drawn onto her right cheek.

Her natural moles made the fake blend in all the more. As long as the hair dye didn't fade and her undershirt remained intact, she would have her disguise. Fake identifying marks and disguising traits would make it easier for her to slip back into her usual activities without tarnishing her 'Hunter persona,' after all. A convoluted plan indeed, but ultimately necessary, she decided.

Lan froze mid-step.

Her ears caught an adorable _cri-croak, cri-croak_ that made her instantly smile with an unhealthy amount of glee. She promptly left the animal-worn trail for the trees, following the noise, almost skipping over tangled roots and downed branches. She skidded to a stop when she closed in on the source.

Underneath a wildly bright teal plant with red flowers sat the most precious thing Lan had seen since Flala the vulture: a young dragon-spit toad. She dropped to her knees, forgetting any dignity she had, to fawn over the darling brown-bodied toad as its red throat flashed in time with its croaks. It was the size of her hand, a fourth of what an adult toad would be. Adult toads, true to their name, spat a highly corrosive acid that could instantly melt flesh; Lan found them so cute when she first read about them online. The little toad before her, its age meant its acid could at most burn skin when not wiped off or destroy eyes with direct contact. In other words, relatively safe to carry.

Before picking up her darling treasure, she sat back, digging in her bag to retrieve a small, luckily waterproof, point-and-shoot camera. Typically, she would use her phone to take pictures, but decided she didn't want to risk breaking it- she rather liked the model she had. Ever an enthusiast, not taking pictures to remember the animals of the exam by seemed a shame, so camera it was.

The toad stared at her blankly as she took a photoshoot's worth of pictures from every angle imaginable.

After returning her camera to her bag, she leaned forward again, calmly scooping up the toad, setting it inside her outer shirt with a handful of damp soil underneath. She kept her aura relaxed, wanting to avoid upsetting the little dear with overexcitement- sometimes, she wondered what Nen ability she would have had had she been a manipulator. With the toad reasonably chill at being packed around in a shirt, Lan stood, heading back to the trees to pluck some large leaves for it to hide under (the odd plant she found the toad under appeared poisonous, and carrying a skin-melting toad seemed adequately foolish).

As Lan happily continued her way down the mountain, she searched out some snacks for her new friend.

* * *

Lan walked through the small crowd, arriving a few hours before the deadline. The toad in her shirt croaked, drawing questioning eyes to her as she passed by exhausted, but successful, examinees. Hisoka, thankfully, had yet to make a grand appearance in the clearing. Lan dreaded the moment the magician arrived…

Tali perked up as Lan approached her. The examiner hopped to her feet, grinning as she nearly bounced with excitement. Waiting for them to catch up with her must have left her extremely bored if she got such enjoyment out of this. Or, she just liked crushing the hopes and dreams of people that made it this far with a subpar treasure. For a person with such bright pink hair and flowery clothes, Tali seemed secretly devious.

"So?" Tali leaned forward, reaching her hands out expectantly. "What do you have? Is it something amazing?"

As soon as Lan pulled the toad from her shirt, onlookers began laughing. Lan fought back a frown at their underappreciation for such an adorable animal. Tali eyed the toad, dropping her hands to her side.

"Ah, I see," she muttered, "that's a dragon-spit toad. I'm a bit impressed, actually." Tali smiled, tone mocking more than genuinely impressed. For the benefit of the giggling idiots looking on, she raised her voice to explain, "It's a rare toad that's under scientific study. Its flesh melting acid is as interesting as how it resists corroding away its own body. I would say a young one like this is worth one million Jenny, more to the right buyer."

The few gasps and gaping mouths of the other applicants showed they understood that Lan wasn't carrying around some random toad. It happened to be an expensive random toad. Lan did question the value, though, as it never crossed her mind to price its exact worth. That sounded more like a poacher's expertise.

"I assume I pass, then?" she asked, a hint of impatience leaking into her voice.

"Yes, with flying colors!" Tali leaned in, expression shifting from exuberance. "I'll buy it from you for that price. I know another Zodiac who'd love to get her hands on one."

Ah. It'd been a sales pitch rather than an actual price. A tempting amount, but not nearly enough to tip Lan away from her limited morals. Scientific study often meant dissection. Even if she hadn't traveled with the darling critter for nearly a day, she wouldn't hand it over to its death. A dangerous, rare creature deserved protection and admiration. She would stand by that principle no matter how much it seemed to contradict her often cynical views on the value of life.

"No," Lan said bluntly, petting the toad carefully. A second later it registered that she probably came off as incredibly rude, and that Tali might reconsider her passing mark- how much power the examiners had in passing people had yet to be seen. Tali had made it sound like she was important for her association with those Zodiac people… Nemmi would be screaming at her about now.

Tali brushed it off, her annoyed frown brief but very apparent. She turned on her heel, wordlessly returning to her downed tree to sit, the air feeling a few degrees colder.

Lan meekly walked to the edge of the group to sit on the ground, back to a tree. Her people skills were exceedingly poor. So, instead of trying to make small talk, she played with the toad, feeding it the last of the bugs she had picked up for it. Animals were easier to interact with anyways…

When Hisoka emerged from the woods perhaps an hour later, Lan went rigid. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, gold glimmering with a spark of morbid mischievousness. That single look told her to be worried. Very worried. While he passed by her without consequence, Lan found herself restless enough to stand, quickly releasing the toad into the trees while Hisoka drew all eyes.

She watched as Hisoka offered a hand piled high with jewelry to Tali. The additional jewelry and the few flecks of blood on his clothes made it apparent that the he had gone on a slight killing spree following their encounter on the cliff. As soon as Tali confirmed he passed, not fussing over how many murders he must have committed, he grinned. And then proceeded to discard the jewelry by dumping it carelessly on the ground as he walked away.

Lan felt her heart leap to her throat. Her brain desperately raced to find an answer to a single question: Did he decide it was time? The maniac smile on his face, the way his aura began to twist with chilling bloodlust, had her shaking in anticipation. He did. He didn't care about onlookers as long as they left him to his business. Her aura fought his, clawing at it hungerly, fighting her restraint, wanting to be released to wreak havoc against such an incredible force. Every step Hisoka took sent her heart drumming against her chest, adrenaline pumping through her. The world narrowed to set the spotlight on him. Instinctual fear began to give way to irrational desire.

Then, with a closed-eye smile, he turned. She stared as he sat down on the ground, completely ignoring her. First, she felt a twinge of relief. Quickly, anger replaced the relief, as this entire farce had been to simply rile her up for his own amusement. For a few minutes, she openly glared at him, trying to stifle her bloodlust since he had long since calmed his- although, his lips did twitch in resistance every time her aura spiked.

Eventually, she sat back down, fury subsiding to… To disappointment? No matter the foolishness of it, she wanted to fight him. That blissfully stupid part of her wanted a challenge. Facing the exam itself had grown from her desire to be challenged, to grow stronger. And Hisoka, he had been the first person she'd seen whose power overshadowed hers in every conceivable way; she needed to be that powerful. Him toying with her like this honestly upset some part of her insecure with her own strength. Ignoring her like she wasn't worth his time, that her entertainment value hinged on his mood, struck a nerve. The thought crossed her mind that this may also have been some bizarre test on his part. He might have been testing her reaction, seeing if she would flee at a little show of power.

And, like that, her disappointment shifted to annoyance.

She mindlessly watched as he built a tower of cards. Her impulsive side wanted to strut over to kick the tower over, send cards flying, before demanding they get this inevitable battle over with. But he would enjoy that too much. So, instead, she forced herself to sit patiently in irritation. She would never give him the satisfaction of her playing by his exact, underhanded terms. He wanted a game? Well, she would provide one, but the rules would be hers.

When the time limit expired, Lan tore her attention away from Hisoka, her eyes returning to the examiner as she stood on top of a log to address them.

"I am super disappointed," Tali pouted, hands on her hips, "but I guess you passed. Aww, but seriously, I'm soooo disappointed that no one happened upon an alcoe plant. I'll have to go find one myself now, since I promised Miss Cluck I'd get one while I was here." She rustled around in her pocket, retrieving a crumpled picture. She held it up. "I would have paid millions for just a leaf. Are you sure you guys didn't see one?"

Lan stared at the photo in unabated horror. Bright teal with red flowers… The weird plant the toad had been under… And she had grabbed toad because it was cute. She nearly wanted to cry because she would have happily handed over some stupid plant for millions! Maybe she would pay for information!

Lan pushed her way past other participants, eyes trained on the colorful examiner as she turned to lead them to the next exam site. Lan barely registered the fact that Hisoka had approached her, choosing to utterly ignore the magician to focus on her new mission.

"Would you pay if I showed you the exact location of one after the exam?" she asked once she reached Tali, a hint of desperation leaking into her tone.

Tali whipped around, giving Lan a glimmer of hope, only for the examiner's blank expression to crush it. "Oh. It's you again." She looked forward. "Nope. I'll go find it myself. Don't quite have time to waste waiting around."

Lan made a face, words lost. She refused to apologize for her rudeness earlier, not when the examiner was acting bratty herself. She silently mourned the loss of a potential fortune to her pride, childishly having the last word with a flat, "Fine."

She paused her steps long enough that she was no longer near Tali, now at the center of the pack- roughly a hundred remained. She found herself behind the man with a turban, choosing to follow him for the duration of the leisurely forest walk. The snake peeking out at her improved her mood enough that she no longer sulked over the money. Although, with that worry lost, another more pressing one made her begin to fidget nervously, sweat debating forming at her brow.

Hisoka stalked behind her, aura ravenous, eagerly awaiting his opportunity to tear her apart the moment they found themselves in isolation.

"Nemmi," she mumbled underneath her breath, "I _really_ messed up."


	4. Alone in the Woods: Examiner and Examinee

After a few hours of trekking through the forest, the group reached another clearing. Unlike the first, which had been naturally occurring, this clearing was littered with freshly fell trees, leaves still brilliant green, trunks splintered into sharpened spikes, branches scattered. A trace of angry aura remained, revealing the next examiner's less-than-cheerful mood. Even restrained, the aura made Lan fidget with a different sort of unease: cold, slimy, and slithering, like the tentacles of a sea monster wrapping around her.

Tali skipped off with no more than a "Good luck, because you'll need it!"

Lan had to shove her way through the crowd of tightly packed bodies to see. Everyone's focus shifted to the next examiner, curious and wary, forgetting the bratty Tali within seconds. No one spoke above a whisper, the examiner's aura unsettling most everyone. Except Hisoka. Lan dared to glance at him. His golden eyes appeared enthralled with this new woman sat upon a gnarled tree's corpse.

Pastel green hair drew attention first. Then her face, pretty and young, age anywhere between twenty and thirty. The examiner sat with her legs crossed, her arms behind her as she stared blankly at the sky. Her clothes left little to the imagination, black sheer covering what the windowed shirt didn't, pants tight on her skin. Not what Lan expected given the woman's unnerving aura. The excessive amount of black clothing, however, fit the woman's mood more than her vibrant hair. In any case, Lan was beginning to think that all hunters were a bit eccentric in style and personality.

She rather liked that fact, being a bit odd herself. Maybe Auntie was right when she said Lan might find some friends here. She would be thrilled to hear that- if Lan survived Hisoka long enough to tell her, that is.

The woman heaved a sigh, shifting until she sat with her chin in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Hazel eyes stared at them a second, followed by another dramatic sigh. "I'm Sybil." Her voice held zero enthusiasm, flat and utterly bored. "Against my will, I am here to act as your examiner, or whatever." She rolled her eyes. "And wow, only, like, two of you actually seem worth the bother." Her words were biting, tone cold and detached.

Sybil played with her hair, casually ignoring the bloodlust Hisoka decided to aim her way. Lan, on the other hand, bit her lip, edging away from the magician the best she could in the crowded space. Having him on the opposite side of the clearing wasn't far enough… But Sybil remained unaffected, unimpressed. She must have nerves of steel, or be very used to the blood-curdling aura Hisoka's sort could radiate.

"So, I guess you need something to do, huh?" Any whining from participants, Sybil refused to acknowledge, as she appeared deep in thought. "Something simple… Where you are all far away from me…" She hummed, apparently content discussing ideas with herself. "Yeah…"

Out of curiosity, Lan used Gyo. To her disappointment and amusement, Sybil was truly talking to herself, no Nen creatures hidden at her side.

"Maybe just kill them all?" An amount of glee leaked into Sybil's voice at her own suggestion. Her expression quickly fell, dark green aura churning around her like a storm cloud as her mood soured. "No, I'll get in trouble for that. Chairman's still too strong to kill without risk…" She must _really_ not want to be here, with her earlier forest rampage and current consideration of murdering her frightening boss, whoever he might be. _How were examiners chosen, anyway?_

The snap of her fingers sounded thunderous in the silent clearing. "Tag," she declared, smug with her own brilliance despite the simplistic idea.

A brave soul spoke up when Sybil neglected further explanation. "With what rules? We can't just play tag without some show of who's out or not." The examiner looked one second away from impaling the young man on one of the shattered tree stumps. "Not unless you want to watch every single one of us," he added placatingly, tone infected with a quiver as he held up his hands.

"Oh. Just, like, take the other person's badge or something. And," she trailed off again, eyes scanning the crowd. "Keeping your own badge will be worth two points, everyone else's one. Five points and you pass." She sat back, expression shifting with a slight grin pulling at her lips. "That should trim your numbers for the next phase. Not much potential here, anyway." Her eyes landed on Hisoka for the first time, wicked grin on her face as she pointed to him. "You'll be leaving last. Have to give these poor fools a chance, yeah? Otherwise you will find yourself very bored, because I don't have time to play with you."

"What a shame," Hisoka sighed, raising his hands to his sides in apparent defeat, although his tone remained as playful as ever. "You would have been an interesting opponent. Perhaps another time?" His cheerful smile was returned by Sybil, both grins fake and bordering on menacing.

"If we cross paths again," Sybil said, no hint of a lie present. Birds of a feather, Lan supposed.

Hisoka's smile didn't abate as his gaze left Sybil, sliding along until shimmering gold met earthy brown. "Did you hear that, fledgling?" he cooed, sadistically bright grin on his painted face. "You will have my undivided attention again. Are you thrilled?"

The chill down Lan's spine nearly made her shake. Words failed as her brain panicked and swooned in the same moment. She cursed herself for staring at him; he probably felt her watching him and only then remembered she existed- his fancy seemed mercurial, there a moment, gone the next. Lan forced her expression to neutral, avoiding the sea of eyes suddenly on her, to stare challengingly, yet worriedly, at Hisoka. The time for their _passionate rendezvous_ had unfortunately come, she realized.

"Five full days should be enough time," Sybil said as she stood, now glancing at her phone. Her aura gained an oppressive edge that threatened suffocation to anyone in her immediate vicinity. Any closer, and she might have actually killed a few contestants. Even Lan felt nauseous, inkling of dread trying to well up into outright panic. It felt...Suffocating. Like drowning, water filling her lungs. "We will meet in a clearing further north. Anyone not back by midday of the sixth day fails. And don't think about getting done early; I have something to fetch while you play." Her eyes narrowed, aura creeping as her control threatened to slip. "That devil won't be finishing his collection until he gives it back…" She shoved her phone back into her pocket. "Well, get lost."

Before the stampeding chaos of a hundred-people scrambling into the forest or swiping badges could commence, the young man from earlier quickly suggested they leave in opposite directions as groups of tens to avoid a bloodbath. Sybil glared at him, relenting when he apologized for speaking out of turn. Manipulative kid, Lan would give him that, but she doubted Sybil actually fell for it- his suggestions just happened to be more reasonable than her initial don't-care-what-happens decisions. He looked too pleased with himself.

In an unusual stroke of luck, Lan found herself in the second group to leave. Until she saw the reason for her sudden luck: one red-haired magician standing next to the examiner, cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face as he waved at her.

 _He wants a game?_ Lan's face scrunched as she hit the tree line, back still visible to her unwanted friend. _And I said I would give him one._ She broke out into a sprint, entering Zetsu once away from the cursed clearing. The plan would be to find a distant, well-hidden, location, and recover for at least a few hours if not a day. She would need all the energy she could get to muddle through her ongoing mistake. Then she would hunt Hisoka down before he had the satisfaction of doing so himself.

Lan had accepted this as an inevitability. This game they played would only end once he sated his curiosity.

Maybe it was wistful thinking, but she got the impression he didn't necessarily want to kill her _right this moment._ If he did, he had had plenty of opportunities to strike her down. On the cliff, he could have thrown her aside after beating her senseless. At the beach, he could have just as easily snapped her neck as place a hand on her shoulder. Even at the start of the exam, in that crowded room with scant space to breath, he could have killed her if he wanted to. Hisoka desired entertainment above murder. As long as she provided that, maybe, just maybe, she would be able to survive this prolonged encounter.

The fact she remained morbidly curious in his power might have lent to her analysis. If he was anything like her, then that was the action she would take. Although, given he seemed far more experienced in combat and life in general, he might have foreseen her reaction. He might want her to recover before facing off with him in some sort of proving.

Thinking in circles would get her nowhere. Instead, she settled on frowning, his ridiculous, infuriating face kept in the back of her mind.

The longer this exam dragged on, the more trouble she managed to find herself in, the more she wished she hadn't dismissed Nemmi. She had forgotten how reliant she had become on her second set of eyes, this the first time she had been alone in years. Too bad it would take a week to call him back to her side. Stupid restrictions…

* * *

The end came on the morning of the third day. With her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, Lan walked through the forest with faked confidence. Awaiting her, probably death and certainly misery.

Yesterday's game of cat and mouse had proven that it was better to just get this over with. Every participant she targeted… They had been slashed apart, badges stolen, corpses littered with playing cards, the moment she decided to attack. She wouldn't be able to finish the exam if Hisoka kept stealing her prey, using them to keep his patience while wearing away hers. In truth, she should abandon the exam to flee from her deranged mistake, but her damned pride demanded her to face the man instead- and, with him, he might stalk her to the ends of the earth if he found it an interesting enough game. Running might be futile, in the end, so best to feed her ego and curiosity in at least attempting to fight him.

She bit her lip, a final nervous tick before replacing her calm façade.

The only hope she had was the magician himself. She doubted pity would save her. No matter her inexperience in battle, in defensive Nen, being pathetic wouldn't convince him to spare her. To the contrary, that might seal her fate. The man didn't seem merciful. Being entertaining… She hoped it would suffice, that her analysis hadn't been completely off base. Her sorry excuse of a plan hinged on him playing this battle like a game. A game with rules to her advantage to keep it entertaining instead of a two-second foray ending with a simple card to the face.

Who was she kidding? She was screwed. Really, she should be planning her own funeral, not half-assed strategies for an already unwinnable fight. She may have wanted a challenge, but this was an outright death wish granted. At least she would die through her own decisions, though…

If her adrenaline hadn't kicked in to drive her forward, Lan might have fled. _Flight_ happened to be her instinctual response to many situations, especially if Nemmi didn't step in to snap her out of her foolishness with motivation. Though this, this he would agree _flight_. Spurred on by adrenaline and the intoxicating danger that was the magician, Lan walked forward despite reason, trees thinning into a small clearing marred by a burnt, lightning-struck tree at the center.

She squared her shoulders to face her demise with dignity, defiantly planting her feet at the edge of the clearing, unintentionally holding her breath. Hisoka stepped into sight from behind the burnt husk of a tree. He stayed at a distance, hand under his chin as his eyes skated over her appraisingly. The gleaming gold unsettled her, his eyes picking apart every detail with disconcerting interest.

Time stopped, the air heavy with morning dew, animals silent as two predators met. Lan watched him like nothing else existed. Every twitch in his expression, flutter of his clothes in the breeze, and flicker in his aura, she noted, desperate for any information she could find. Instead, she saw what little she already knew: dressed as a showy magician or jester, pale skin over toned muscle, bright red -near pink- hair gelled into place, gorgeous face under a layer of ridiculous makeup, and expression a mix of chilling and alluring. Not much she could do with that, other than question her tastes.

"Do you want to play a game with me?"

His voice startled her, reality smacking her back into the moment from her flurry of thoughts. He caught her surprise, amusement shining in his eyes as his grin grew to creepily stretch across his face.

"It's simple to play," he continued, overly cheerful voice bordering on seductive, making him much more frightening. "I want to test your potential. You've made me awfully curious, fledgling."

"On one condition," Lan said firmly, voice not betraying the fear her eyes reflected. If he didn't kill her, then this was an important point to make. His amused expression egged her on. "We don't use Hatsu." Not unless it becomes necessary, she mentally added. A liar and a cheater, if he abided by the simple rule, then she might have a chance of slipping away with her life after using her abilities as a distraction. Also, it gave her more of a chance since his physical strength alone could easily kill her; using his Hatsu would make this an amazingly unfair, uninteresting battle.

Hisoka considered her request for a brief second before saying, "Deal." He took a half-step forward, changing his stance, a sharp-nailed finger beckoning her to come at him.

 _A true gentleman, allowing me the first move,_ she thought with bitter sarcasm. She cautiously stepped to the side, circling slowly, waiting for reckless abandon to overtake rational fear. While her brain still had some logical thought, she considered how to attack.

A double-edged sword, saying she wouldn't use her Hatsu. She didn't have much else to injure someone who had likely mastered Nen defenses ages ago. Forget formal martial arts training as well. About all she had at her disposal was Shu, a switchblade, and stupidity.

"Frightened, fledgling?" Hisoka asked, watching her from the corner of his eye as she nearly stood behind him. "I promise not to bite too hard." The moment she slipped from his sight, he laughed under his breath. He didn't turn to face her. Instead, he raised an arm, exposing his side, to comb through his hair. The mocking action stung more than words.

She grit her teeth, legs tensing as her knees bent. Then she sprung forward. Her hand outstretched, aura sharpening her nails in lieu of her usual Hatsu coating, she aimed for his side. Slashing open his stomach might lean the battle in her favor.

A breeze caressed her hand as her fingers sailed through empty air. On instinct, she dropped to her hands, feet digging into earth to propel her away. The edge of a card caught her arm. She whipped around, skidding to a stop with a short distance between them. She felt warmth on her arm. Blood. Lan shifted her weight, eyes wanting to dart to the wound, but forced to remain on the magician as he flipped the stained card in his fingers. Another drawback of being without Nemmi… She didn't have a constant visual on an opponent, the risk of checking wounds too high to warrant doing so. The only bright side, currently, was she could move her hand, signaling her arm was still mostly attached.

Her face scrunched in repulsion when he licked blood from the card, appearing to savor the flavor. Disgusting. Disgusting enough to throw her brain for a loop and let her face show revulsion.

His smile grew wild, amused with her visible reaction. With the flick of his wrist, more cards appeared between his fingers. The magic trick sent her on the defensive.

"Tell me, fledgling, can you not feel pain?" Several cards whizzed by, Lan evading them before ducking behind a tree. Harsh snaps rang out as cards imbedded deeply in bark. "I've been dying to know since that little incident on the beach."

 _Damn it. He had noticed._ Lan quickly looked to her arm while she could: a single scratch, blood a slow ooze over cold skin. Just a glancing, playful slash. "Nothing so outlandish," she called back as she fished her knife from her belt. "A high tolerance for it is all." Her other hand gripped a handful of twigs, improvising.

"A compulsive liar, I see." His tone hinted to suppressed delight. He thought her stream of lies hilarious; not something she particularly liked given the circumstances. He acted like he saw through her every lie, making them childish jokes there for his amusement and not her safety.

Lan spun on her heel, darting between trees, aura enveloping the twigs. A card zoomed by her cheek as she turned to find her mark. Hisoka remained mockingly in place. A fistful of Shu-sharpened sticks flew towards him, distracting as Lan launched herself into the branches of the nearest tree. She stifled her bloodlust immediately, aura shrinking close to her skin, Zetsu much too risky in this situation. As she jumped from one limb to the next with practiced stealth, she caught a glimpse of him tossing the sticks to the side, no blood present. Not nearly strong enough to deal damage. His grin as he scanned for her bordered on maniacal. The way he could contort his features to make such bizarre expressions, it made her swallow harshly. Just had to catch the eye of a homicidal clown…

"Are you not tired of playing hide and seek yet?" Hisoka playfully teased, standing in the open, no longer even looking for where she went.

No matter how quiet she was, how little she disturbed the branches as she switched trees, or how well she restrained her aura, he must know where she was. His confidence showed it. Even in Zetsu, this man may as well have a sixth sense for locating hiding prey. This wasn't the full extent of his power either. As he said, this was merely a game, and he treated it as such. Impressively annoying.

A flicker in her aura sent golden eyes to her. Her feet hit the ground. Hisoka awkwardly, in an inconceivably inhuman way, bent to avoid a bundle of sticks slicing into his back like makeshift knives. While he straightened his back, she dashed forward, knife in hand. Their eyes met as she lunged for him.

The blade bit into his arm.

Lan jumped back, baffled, watching as blood violently stained his pale skin. _A wholly preventable wound, why didn't he dodge?_ Her unsettling answer came with a wave of nauseating aura. His face twisted with… With pleasure. A concerning amount of it.

"That look, like a ravenous animal," he muttered, voice drenched in desire and glee, eyes about rolled back in his head. He… he almost seemed turned on by this, unnerving her more than his aura. The bloodlust that radiated from him, Lan became a pin cushion as it prickled against her skin. It was much more chilling than before, now saturated with oppressive want. "I absolutely _adore_ it."

In a single stride, he narrowed the distance. Lan stumbled back as she ducked out under a punch. His knee slammed into her stomach. Air knocked from her lungs, she coughed, narrowly avoiding the follow-up strike aimed for her face. She found herself being forced back, defending against a stream of blows. Strikes that landed hit with sickening thuds liable to bruise, if not cause fractures. The few times metal met skin, her knife seemed to glide off without adequate damage, leaving only superficial scratches. Even pouring energy into the blade with Shu didn't help, Hisoka more than capable of adjusting his defenses hit for hit.

The ineffectiveness of her attacks weakened her resolve to follow her own rules. Her eyes narrowed with concentration, leash on her aura fading as her instincts demanded her to use Arri before she ended up a bloody corpse for scavengers to feast on. It might be enough to catch him off guard.

"Oh, Lan," Hisoka purred in reaction to her mask slipping from indifference to a mix of panic, determination, and irritation. Her name on his lips made her want to shutter- she'd take fledgling to his lustful tone saying just half of her first name. "I simply adore that look on your face!" he gushed, features still contorted with an insane grin. "It makes me want to cut you into tiny pieces. I can barely stand it."

A sharp elbow to the cheek made her vision dance. _Concussion?_ Lan stumbled to the side, feet almost leaving the ground with the hit. Before she had the chance to right her balance, fingers threaded through her hair, tugging harshly to make her stumble towards him.

"You have such beautifully long hair," he commented, another pull forcing her forward as he brought back his other arm. Her eyes went wide, body simply reacting to protect her from having a hole punched through her gut.

His fist slammed into her stomach, spit followed by blood as her feet left the soil. Lan flew through the air, collision with a tree inevitable. She only had one way fast enough to protect her from further injury.

She already broke the rules, anyway.

* * *

Hisoka watched as the girl's back slammed into a tree, the trunk exploding into splinter confetti. As the first toppled to the ground, she hit a second, aura biting into the bark to act as a cushion. She slid down the trunk, ability slashing claw-like lines into the bark until she rested on the ground. What a shame her body blocked his view. Clumsily, she attempted to stand, coughing as she fell in a pile. Blood ran down her face as her eyes met his, a spark of anger blended with fear.

He smiled, wondering how long she would stay conscious. She couldn't feel pain, allowing her to fight longer with more severe injuries, but not without consequences. Her body would refuse to cooperate eventually. He hadn't mortally injured her, at least not intentionally.

What a beautiful glimpse of her talent it had been… Hisoka raised his hand, licking a line of blood that dripped from his knuckles. She had caught him off guard with her reaction time. In the moment before his fist struck her stomach, her aura materialized a Hatsu ability. Had he not adjusted his Nen to protect his hand, she may have sliced it off- something that really excited him, which might cause her accidental death if he didn't leave soon. Cold and sharp, akin to metal, but more than just malleable, almost alive; her aura's consistency contradicted itself spectacularly, a perfect match to her personality. A fellow transmuter, just as he thought. An inexperienced one, though, given her Nen defenses were deplorable and her overall control suspect.

Interesting little thing, this Lan.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed, walking towards her with a grin. She bit her lip, visibly nervous with his approach. "You've passed, dear Lan." He stopped in front of her, crouching so his eyes were level with hers. He could hear her heart drumming in her chest as she tried to shrink back into the tree. "You have potential. Enough that I won't kill you… For now."

"How kind," she rasped, blood dripping down her chin as she spoke. Her words were grateful yet bitter, expression relieved and irritated. He reached forward, startling her so badly her eyes went wide and she helplessly sputtered, "Wha- what are you d-doing?" She squirmed as she felt a tug on her shirt, hand weakly catching his, her nails digging into his skin. Her panic sent her into another coughing fit that covered up his chuckle.

He plucked the badge from her chest, her fingers slipping from his. "For breaking your own rule, naughty fledgling." He tapped it on her nose teasingly before standing, her badge disappearing with the flick of his hand. She stared at him in horror, tempting his self-control a final time as he turned away. He took a single step forward, hearing a thud as she slumped over in defeat, ready to succumb to exhaustion.

"Bastard," she whispered, a heavy sigh following.

"I'm excited for this fruit to ripen," he said to himself, leaving her before he ended up killing her prematurely. It would be such a waste after all. Yet, the short battle had him all sorts of bothered.

He would have to take his excitement out on a few other participants, it seemed.

* * *

Lan reluctantly opened her eyes, groggy after sleeping for what felt like a long time. A peaceful forest bathed in dim light met her. From some reason, she felt a bit disoriented… Maybe from sleeping upright against what was likely a tree. Although, she didn't remember deciding to sleep at the base of a tree; safer to sleep higher up, after all.

Her stomach dropped as her mind finally caught up.

She fought Hisoka. No, more like she had her ass handed to her by Hisoka after making a fool of herself _and using Arri_. So much for not using her Hatsu during the exam! She wondered if anyone besides Hisoka had seen…

The exam.

Panicked, her hand flew to her chest, fingers clutching fabric instead of plastic. Bastard had taken her tag! She remembered it clearly now, how he tauntingly bopped her on the nose with it, winking cheekily as he whisked it away. He had no damn reason to take it! After all the badges he kept her from yesterday…

Yesterday. Lan glanced to the sky, the forest bathed in a faint glow. The angle of the shadows showed the sun to be eastward. As in morning.

"No," she leaned forward, something in her gut pulling to show injury. Almost like déjà vu, it was morning again, an hour or so before her meet up with Hisoka _yesterday_. "No, no, no!" Lan fell back into the tree. She'd been passed out for nearly twenty-four hours- she must have been more injured or more exhausted than she thought. That made it day four, and she now had no badges to her name.

Having no time to pout, she forced herself to her feet, muscles protesting. Her cheek felt swollen too- hopefully he hadn't broken bone with his stupid elbow. After rubbing a sleeve on her face to remove caked on blood, she noticed her clothes were wet. It must have rained at some point as well, leaving her wonderfully soaked and freezing cold once more. Stiff and wet, what a _fantastic_ way to start a desperate hunt. Because she would be passing the exam this year; Hisoka wouldn't be getting in the way of that, damn it! If only to prove that one loss wouldn't dissuade her from facing him again…

Hair smacked her face as she bent down to pick up her abandoned knife. Now in the midst of a childish tantrum, she bit her lip to hold back a string of curses. Not only was long hair a pain to upkeep, it was a giant liability when _someone_ decided to grab it.

In a fit of impulsive anger, she snatched her knife from the ground, other hand grabbing the offending chunk of hair. One slash left a pile of silky black in the dirt.

"This… This is a promise," she mumbled, slipping her knife back into her belt. After the exam, she would be cutting her hair to at least her shoulders to avoid this happening again. And it would serve as a reminder to the mistakes she made in this fight…

Like not using her Hatsu in full. Or challenging- even unintentionally- a far stronger opponent. Already, despite the sheer stupidity of it, she wanted a rematch. She wanted to prove she could put up resistance under normal circumstances. She _needed_ to prove that, even if only to herself.

Cold fury and determination carried Lan as she turned away from the clearing.

Hisoka would have to wait, because she didn't come here to make friends. She wouldn't abandon her goal. Not yet. Not for him. She would pass this damn exam no matter what.

* * *

Lan stood triumphant, sun of the final day sinking below the horizon. Her genuine, if a bit delirious, giggle turned to a practiced villain laugh as she shoved her fresh stack of tags into her bag for safe keeping. Behind her, strewn in the dirt, were four groaning men in varying degrees of pain and terror.

The three brothers that she'd seen at the start of the exam, she spent nearly a day tracking them after her first targets proved fruitless. They put up a fight a least. Teamwork at its best, but still no match. They weren't Hisoka, after all. Even her faulty skills could outdo regular people with little problem. Really, they should consider themselves lucky she was in such a merciful mood. Had they not had seven tags on them, she might have chosen to take her frustration out on them.

The stout man, the proclaimed rookie-crusher, was the only one still conscious. He sat in a quivering pile on the ground, muttering about terrifying newbies, face paled in fright. She supposed it made sense, given he thought she'd been a ghost or something when she landed in front of the arguing group. Slashed clothes with a sizable bloodstain near the neck, face bruised violent purple, and hair unevenly chopped off; she probably looked like a deranged and mangled corpse. All it took was a threat and a promise for him to hand over his badge peacefully: you're dead if you don't forfeit the tag and I'll let you live if you do.

Her laughter cut abruptly as she lost interest in playing the part. Silently, with a smile, she ran back into the forest with a surge of energy. She had her tags now, securing her pass through this phase despite the debacle with her favorite clown.

And Hisoka, she had something to ask him now that she had calmed down. The embarrassing loss might have hurt her pride, but it brought with it an opportunity -risk- she convinced herself to take.

* * *

In the final minutes of the phase, Hisoka found himself abnormally entertained despite idly standing.

The examiner, this Sybil, she was strong. He had already noted that fact. Another, newly added, detail, however, made her all the more interesting: the glass-encased book clutched tightly in her hands. Any other time, and a book would be positively dull, but this particular title he recognized. A nearly ancient volume, valuable and rare- or so he had been told. The very same book the Phantom Troupe, specifically Chrollo, had been on a mission to steal. A mission that Hisoka had passed up to take the exam, thinking that it sounded rather boring. Sybil's earlier complaints towards a thieving devil paired with her stealing the book before the Troupe, she was somehow connected to Chrollo through bad blood.

Something from the past, but Hisoka found himself curious all the same. He certainly wanted to fight this woman at some point. An enemy of the Phantom Troupe didn't survive long unless they were skilled and intelligent.

How much joy it brought him to know that taking this exam hadn't been a complete waste of his time. New toys were always such fun.

As if on cue, Lan stepped into the clearing, strutting to the examiner without sparing him a glance. He found her pettiness amusing in how her obvious anger showed through her blatantly ignoring his existence. She looked particularly proud underneath the massive bruise on her cheek as she pulled eight badges from her bag. He didn't doubt that she would pass the phase despite his interference. She stalked prey with ease, their game of hide and seek highlighting her animalistic talent. He just wanted to rile her up- perhaps she had figured that out, now desperately trying to keep her eyes from darting to him to deny him attention.

While she spoke with the examiner, he glanced around, perusing how many made it to phase four. A woeful seventeen remained. Pity. The exam would end soon, just as things were growing more interesting.

"The next examiner _should_ be here shortly," Sybil announced, recapturing interest as she turned to leave. "Idiot is ruining the non-stop exam we all agreed to put on," she mumbled bitterly, fed up with the next examiner before they even arrived. "So, enjoy your break. If you need anything, petition the airship." She pointed over the horizon, the ship a speck in the sky. Without another word, Sybil stepped into the shadows of the forest.

Hisoka briefly considered forgoing the exam to follow after the woman, test her strength and perhaps find her connection to Chrollo, but light, barely audible footsteps made him hesitate a moment.

"Hisoka," she said, voice sharp, demanding, yet with a hint of apprehension. He turned around, Lan boldly standing within reach, her shoulders squared while she clenched and unclenched her hands nervously. The admiration and anger in her eyes begged for his undivided attention.

With a growing, delighted, smile, he answered, "Yes, fledgling?"


	5. Disqualified Passion: Hollow Pledges

Lan arrived in the clearing an uncomfortable few minutes before the time limit expired. Still thrilled to have her badges after the mishap, she confidently walked up to Sybil. She forced herself to ignore Hisoka's burning stare. If only to be petty, she would act like the scuffle had meant nothing and that he didn't bother her at all. At least until she had her victory secured.

"Pass," Sybil said without fanfare when Lan held up her stack of tags. The examiner snatched the tags, dumping them into a bucket with the rest. "Find yours," she commented blandly, holding it out to her. Instead of freeing her, while Lan reaffixed her tag, Sybil leaned forward. She tilted her head as she studied Lan closely. Her eyes lingered the longest on her clothes, a relief.

Had it been her face, this interaction would be more worrying. Lan feared dealing with someone that recognized her relation to Fanghe. Her sister, from the snippets Lan had heard, had many enemies among Hunters and criminals alike. The only reason she tried to look _more_ like Fanghe with her disguise was because she didn't want to be caught lying about their relationship. A truly determined Hunter could dig up adequate information to connect her false surname to her actual. It was better for someone to outright see _Paijin_ than give them reason to pry.

She desperately wanted to keep the surname she lived under separate. Paijin was weighted by generations of bloodshed and crime. If Lanfen Paijin the Hunter stirred up trouble, so be it. Lan could kill off a character without much regret- assuming she found an instructor first, because that was her main goal in becoming a Hunter, anything more a bonus. Then she could disappear with the scrap of anonymity Fanghe left her.

The problem came if someone connected her to falsified documents. Auntie had enough connections left to obtain decent forgeries for them both. By technicality, Lan's only birth certificate was the fake document. However, if someone found Lan's, Auntie's would be next. Auntie had original records under Paijin, her current alias proving her intent to deceive. No matter her connections, Auntie couldn't wriggle out of a full-blown investigation. Leaving the country was also dangerous, worse enemies existing in exile… Lan absolutely refused to bring Auntie down with her. Not… not after all she did for her.

"Anchi," Sybil finally commented after another agonizing moment of scrutiny. Her voice sounded piqued with curiosity, but, thankfully, not hostile. "And the white," she continued, pointing to the sash tied around Lan's waist, "that's Bai Ze."

Lan hadn't been stupid enough to wear Paijin gold. The Bai Ze, former crime syndicate become corrupt government, controlled Anchi. They wiped out the Paijin network when they came into power- which happened to follow Fanghe staging a coup against their father and having Bai Ze officials assassinated, but that was another thing entirely. Someone parading around in gold, claiming the last name Paijin, while baring striking resemblance to the old leader and his crazed daughter, would be immediately executed, no questions asked. Even if that was less likely outside of Anchi, Lan didn't risk taking her disguise that far in the off chance she crossed paths with a Bai Ze member during the exam. Or someone worse.

When she said she had spent years coming up with her convoluted disguise, she hadn't been lying. Even now, she probably missed some variables liable to get her killed. This was all a -poorly- calculated risk.

Sybil straightened her back, her wicked grin making Lan clench her jaw tightly. "I burned twenty Bai Ze alive last month!" she proclaimed with a startling amount of glee, smiling wider as she seemed to reminisce. "The Dons always pay so well when someone tries to screw them over."

Lan made a face, hoping it conveyed fear. Sybil wanted Lan to be scared that her 'coworkers' had been horrifically murdered, and she would play the part to end the conversation. Sybil seemed pleased enough with her reaction.

Lan remembered the incident, the news talking non-stop about the mysteriously imploded building while breezing over any illegal dealings the occupants had been involved in. She never expected a mafia hitman to be an examiner for the Hunter Exam, though. Especially not one so open about what she did. Between Sybil and Hisoka... Forget the ideals of honest, law-abiding Hunters, they were apparently criminally-inclined, homicidal, lying, maniacs. She fit in better than she previously assumed.

"Well then," Sybil said, losing all interest in Lan when she glanced at the ancient book in her hand- Lan briefly wondered how much it was worth. She walked away, crossing the center of the small gathering of examinees. Only seventeen, Lan noticed. "The next examiner _should_ be here shortly," Sybil announced. "Idiot is ruining the non-stop exam we all agreed to put on," she added bitterly. "So, enjoy your break. If you need anything, petition the airship."

Lan followed Sybil's pointing finger to the horizon. The tiny silhouette of an airship had materialized in the last few minutes, traveling at a steady speed. Lan stared at the airship another moment instead of watching Sybil leave. She wondered if it would be returning them to civilization after this phase, or another exam site for the fourth phase.

Now free of the examiner's unnerving presence, Lan's mind drifted back to what she had decided yesterday. It was something foolish and stupid, but she couldn't help herself.

Her fascination with Hisoka hadn't dulled with her defeat. To the contrary, her interest had grown immensely. Deadly and powerful, the danger he presented captivated her. His personality, strange, dramatic, and whimsical, attracted her with its similarities and differences to her own. She had never met someone quite like him. The clown promised to be an interesting- if frustrating- conversation partner, in the very least. Without him actively trying to kill her, well, she honestly found him a rather attractive friend option.

Nemmi would screech at her for that. _Auntie_ would screech at her for that.

Their disapproval aside, her other reason for walking towards him was certainly anger-based. She wanted a rematch, if only to prove to herself that she wasn't as pathetic as she must have seemed during that fight. She couldn't afford to be _that_ weak.

"Hisoka," she called as she stepped behind him, his attention trained on where Sybil had disappeared into the trees. Her voice wavered a touch at the end, nerves catching up to her now that she stood so close, realizing her own stupidity. While she fidgeted with her hands, she straightened her posture to put on an air of fabricated confidence.

He slowly turned, time crawling as his eyes bore into her own. A pleased smile spread across his face in response to whatever he saw reflected in her eyes. "Yes, fledgling?" he asked sweetly, voice already bordering on seductive.

Before his tone got to her, Lan bluntly demanded, "Give me your phone number."

"How forward." Hisoka leaned down, hands on his hips, his height very apparent with the close proximity. She regretted trying to appear confident by purposefully invading his personal space. His face was much, much too close to hers now. This was, in fact, a stupid idea. "I wasn't aware that you adored me so. We could have done so much more together if I'd known."

Lan swallowed nervously, reminding herself that he just wanted a reaction. He wasn't actually flirting with her or something. He simply enjoyed making people uncomfortable. She hoped.

"I want a rematch under different circumstances." A rare truth from her. "Having your number would make it easier to arrange." Followed by a half-truth. She wanted to talk to him more after the exam. Friends exchanged numbers, and making him her friend seemed as interesting as it was foolish.

"Do you believe the result would change if we were elsewhere?" He dodged the request, more amused with the idea that she thought a rematch might gain her a win.

"I intend to find a Nen teacher after the exam." She could ignore questions too. Although, it did explain her thought process anyway. She would be stronger after proper training. "If I pass, a Hunter will do," she continued. She wanted to keep his attention, after all. Acquaintances only became friends after talking for a time… She thinks. "If I fail, I would settle for having you as a teacher." A lie. Hisoka would probably decide to kill her in a fit of boredom, or once she reached her peak- she _really_ wished she hadn't heard the fruit comparison.

He found it amusing enough, eyes gleaming as his smile remained. No laugh, though. Hisoka straightened his back, his face no longer a hair away from hers. A pointed nail dug into her cheek as he prodded at the bruise teasingly- probably would hurt, if she could register pain.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be a very good teacher, especially with such a naughty student. I would have to punish you too often."

Lan swallowed down her discomfort, reminding herself this was just a game. "Nice teachers rarely accomplish much," she added to show she would be ignoring his creepy comments for the moment. She did, however, swat his hand away before he dug a hole in her face. He kept adding pressure, quite literally testing her limits in pain and patience. His low chuckle at her response proved his intentions.

The statement about teachers rang true, though. Her meek former instructor failed to teach things beyond Ten and Zetsu, a blurb on Ren and Hatsu, and the rest explained with at most two words. Shu, Gyo, and In she learned to use on her own, later forfeiting her mediocre En to Nemmi. That left advanced techniques like Ko, Ken, and Ryu. Useful things she desperately needed in her fight with Hisoka, or anyone that she didn't ambush. She had become much too reliant on her Hatsu… And its effectiveness was questionable with her lacking knowledge.

"In any case," Lan said before she lost the magician's attention, "I want your promise that you'll give me a rematch."

"A promise between liars," Hisoka hummed, seemingly intrigued by her phrasing. She smiled herself, briefly, agreeing it was a funny contradiction.

He pretended to mull over the request, his hand wandering again. His left hand found the end of her hair- the long side since her uneven haircut- his fingers wrapping around before he pulled on it, slowly convincing her to take a step closer. Her slight smile wavered, wanting to give way to a frown, but the lacerations across his knuckles brought her an odd sense of accomplishment. Arri _had_ caught him off guard. At least she had left some sort of damage on the man, considering how she looked.

"Surely you already know I want to fight you again. After you've grown stronger, of course," Hisoka began, forcing her take a step forward as he tugged at her hair. She almost stood on top of his feet with how awkwardly close they were. Any closer and she be having a conversation with her face pressed to his chest. She even had to crane her neck to see his face properly. "Otherwise I would have already killed you." His tone dropped lower, laced with his strange brand of lust. She fought physically shuttering, almost overwhelmed by his intimidating presence, once more reconsidering her decision to engage him willingly. "So, dear Lan, what is it you _really_ want?"

An expectant pause lingered in the air. Lan would sooner die than admit the truth of the situation. He would probably find her desire for 'friendship' hilarious- and rightly so.

"Your phone number," she repeated dumbly, silence and the embarrassing truth not an option.

Hisoka's eyes lit up, a chuckle about to escape his lips, when someone rudely shouted, "Quit yapping, and pay attention! I don't have time to listen to you freaks flirt with each other."

Lan turned around as Hisoka released her hair, the overconfident tone irking her more than the pitiful insult. A man stood with his arms crossed over his chest, untamed hair matching his fur vest in wild appearance. _Foxbear_ fur. Bastard. Her irritation rose immediately, her aura taking a threatening edge as she forced herself to keep quiet. Like dominoes, her reaction made Hisoka react, and his bloodlust made the apparent fourth examiner's aura flare. Silence fell over the clearing as they stared each other down.

"Oh? And who might you be?" Hisoka asked, his cheerful tone infinitely more terrifying than an outright threat- or maybe not, as Lan hadn't seen a serious Hisoka. A lead-weighted hand landed on her shoulder as she tried to step away, a clear sign their conversation wasn't over until he said so.

"Togari, examiner for this phase," he said, prideful in the title, like he should have their immediate respect. With Togari's words, Hisoka's bloodlust surged again to test the examiner's fortitude- as he had done to every examiner thus far. Togari shifted, attempting to look nonchalant even as his face paled at Hisoka's nauseating aura. "You have something you want to say to me, clown?"

If Lan wasn't hyper-aware of every movement Hisoka made while standing behind her, she might have missed the unimpressed sigh he gave. She had concluded the same: Togari was weak. Lan had felt Hisoka's bloodlust far more excited than now, and even at this level Togari's willpower faltered. Morel, Lan felt she could fend him off for a time, but inevitably lose. Sybil also had to be closer to Hisoka and Morel's level. Tali might have been an even match for her. Togari? Lan didn't think she'd even need Nen to beat him. How he gained his position as examiner was nothing short of a miracle, unless he volunteered or something.

Her skin crawled when Hisoka lifted his hand only to rest his elbow on her shoulder instead. Chin now resting in his hand while leaning into her, she caught a glimpse of his expression. Unamused, smile not cutting across his face manically, nor the mischievous glint in his eyes, it made Lan swallow thickly. Maybe fake cheer _was_ better than actual irritation.

"Are you _positive_ that you're a hunter, let alone an examiner?" Hisoka asked, voice velvety and laced with mockery. "I'm not quite convinced, you see."

Togari spiked his Ren, stepping forward as his brows pushed together in anger. For a threat display, it fell flat. Laughably so. "You think you can take me on, clown?" he snarled. A few words had rattled his pride, fury clouding his judgement, leaving him without the proper amount of fearful respect. "Come at me if you're so damn confident!" With that, he sentenced himself to death.

No one dared warn Togari of his mistake. Even Lan stood quietly, not wanting Hisoka's attention back on her. Irritation and disappointment mixed with bloodlust behind her, crawling over her skin and sending her heart to her throat. While she fought rational fear, excitement dangerously welled in her. She _wanted_ to see Togari torn apart. Parading around in a rare creature's pelt with unfounded arrogance, Togari didn't deserve the title of Hunter let alone examiner. He didn't deserve to administer this test. If Hisoka's aura didn't show his intent to kill, Lan might have done something stupid herself. Killing an examiner would surely mean disqualification.

Hisoka's quiet chuckle made her tense. Once he stopped using her as an armrest and stepped forward, Lan paced backwards a short distance, eyes never leaving him. Theatrically, he held out his hands, deck of cards flowing in a fluid arc from one to the other before disappearing.

"Gladly," Hisoka answered, a twitch of his fingers summoning a single card.

Togari barely dodged a rather lazily thrown card. The man charged forward without grace, speed a pathetic crawl when compared to Hisoka. In a single movement, Hisoka met Togari, his fist slamming into Togari's face before the examiner could attempt evading it. He skidded to the side, his weight about all that kept his feet on the ground. He didn't even have time to recover before cards sliced through the air. Three embedded in his chest in the barrage, Ten barely saving him from immediate death.

With every passing second, Lan found herself simultaneously impressed and unimpressed. Hisoka was endlessly fascinating, his movements fluid, quick, and gracefully deadly. She already knew that, having had her face beat in by him. Spectating allowed her a better appreciation, though. Lan also felt rather impressed with herself. Togari couldn't even track Hisoka's movements, the magician astonishingly fast. The "examiner" failed to get any strikes in, completely on the defensive as Hisoka dominated the battle. She had at least been able to hit him while they exchanged blows- never mind how ineffective her attacks had been.

Boredom found Hisoka in under a half-minute. Cards in hand, he brought down his arms. Togari paused his lunge, blood spurting from four wounds on his face. His brain registered the pain in the moment following. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony, blinded by blood, and screaming out curses. Hisoka pulled him out of the dirt, fist slamming into the man's stomach to launch him through the air with a bloody spray.

A final card aimed for Togari's head would have been his demise. Instead, in the last second, the card was caught and tossed to the side. Pink hair and floral prints, Tali had appeared to save her fellow examiner.

Lan's head snapped upwards, suddenly aware that the airship now hovered overhead. Another person leapt from the ship, landing effortlessly while balancing his pipe on his shoulder. Morel's expression turned stern as he placed himself between the fallen examiner and Hisoka.

By some miracle, Hisoka paused his potential rampage. His gaze drifted to her, baffling her. Certainly, Morel would be a better opponent than her; he should be looking at him. Lan held her breathe as she prepared to flee. The grin on Hisoka's face suddenly contorted to menacing, his bloodlust almost knocking her off her feet with the sudden surge in her direction. The same look he had when she sliced his arm open, it spelled impending disaster, and she had no idea what she had done to cause it.

"Good afternoon, everyone!"

Lan whipped around, stumbling back. An old man with white hair pulled into a ponytail stood behind her, within arm's reach, smiling, oblivious to the absolutely horrendous aura Hisoka was producing. She never noticed him until his greeting. To sneak up on her so easily, to appear so at ease around such concentrated bloodlust… Frightening. She took a few steps to the side to keep a watchful eye on the old man and Hisoka.

"I see things have taken an interesting turn," he continued, surveying the damage one run-away magician had caused the supposed examiner. His eyes sparkled with curiosity rather than outright anger or concern. "I would have Togari explain what happened, but he appears to be busy right now." The old man looked to each participant, waiting for one to catch the cue. The tension lay thick in the air. Still too shocked by recent events, no one spoke up with confidence- not even the young man that had tried to lead Sybil through phase three.

"Chairman, you know what happened," Tali called over her shoulder, exasperated, currently wrestling with Togari to bandage his mangled face- perhaps he struggled because she wrapped over his mouth to quiet his shrieking. "I told you, participant 242 had challenged us all to a fight. Idiot here just took him up on the offer." She tightened the bandage more than necessary, admonishing, "Even Sybil chose not to, stupid."

The title didn't go unnoticed. The Chairman of the Hunter Association, the old man, had come to observe the unusual proceedings in person. She understood why the other examiners hadn't wanted to upset him. His easy-going nature meant little when he could probably crush about anything with his power. Lan… Lan almost wanted Hisoka to attack him, if only to see the old man fight. Hisoka certainly wanted to, the magician nearly drooling over the thought, his bloodlust unrelenting. If the Chairman didn't stand behind Lan, Morel and Tali absent, Hisoka might have gone in for the kill already. He seemed more of a 'I prefer perfect conditions and one-on-one fights' type from what she'd seen.

"Oh, yes. You did tell me that." In no way did it sound like he'd forgotten. It looked like she'd spoiled his fun more than anything else. "Well, number 242, you're disqualified. Try again next year."

And that was it.

The Chairman excused Hisoka's murder attempt without reprimand, inviting him back next year to try again _with a smile_. Lan didn't understand how the Hunter Association even functioned now. Just how many murderers were Hunters? Did they even have rules?

"What if I'm more interested in fighting you than in this silly exam?" Hisoka asked, breaking his ongoing silence, his aura still screaming for blood. It was another miracle the non-Nen-users were still alive. The fact they had skittered to the outskirts of the clearing like cockroaches from light might explain their survival.

"Tough luck," the Chairman said loudly, voice almost making tense Lan jump. "Now, off with you," he shooed, clearly the boldest man in existence. Hisoka almost seemed confused himself, not used to his challenges being brushed aside so casually. He made no move to leave, however. "There will be no fight, 242. I am a busy man today. Maybe if you become a Hunter, we can find a better time."

Hisoka debated leaving or fighting. Lan wondered what criteria he had to even decide such a situation. She hadn't had a chance to ask him why he wanted to be a Hunter. Did he care about getting a license? About the perks of being a Hunter? She honestly had no idea what motivated him beyond fighting people that he deemed strong. If finding a worthy opponent was the sole reason he took the exam, his decision should be obvious. Morel and Tali wouldn't be able to interfere that much; in Lan's opinion, their presence would make the battle more interesting. He should fight the Chairman.

He finally shrugged after some consideration. "Another time," Hisoka said plainly, just like when Sybil had denied him a fight. He didn't seem too torn up about failing, further perplexing Lan because he got absolutely nothing out his time spent taking the exam. No license. No fight. Why wasn't he upset? She really wanted to talk to him more now, if only to understand his strange decisions and attitude.

A card threatening to lodge itself in her skull brought her out of her thoughts. She caught it, the thing not hurdling at her with as much deathly speed as when they fought. Seven of spades again… She flipped it over, finding a string of numbers. Lan's wide eyes shot to Hisoka as he sauntered off.

"For you, fledgling," he said with a wink, acting like he'd given her the most expensive gift in the world. She wouldn't question the exclusivity, though.

Without a second glance, he disappeared from sight, leaving her with a bruised ego, conflicting emotions, undying curiosity, _and_ his phone number. Every second with him, he drew more questions than he answered, and Lan _needed_ to know more about the interesting, if homicidal, man. Still, like a silly girl in the books she read, she felt almost nervous about calling him. Texting it would be- letters were less intimidating, especially considering the things his voice did.

"I will be taking over this phase since the examiner is indisposed," the Chairman announced once Hisoka was well out of sight, a phantom memory now.

The crowd of sixteen participants snapped out of their stupor, remembering a time before a clown attacked a brute and three people- an old man included- jumped from an airship to end the farce. The Chairman finally gave Lan some breathing room, walking to the center of the crowd, making eye contact with each examinee as if he were just now judging them. Lan clenched her jaw when his eyes fell on her, a sparkle in his eye like he'd either recognized her or saw something he liked; she didn't like either possibility, his attention only a tiny bit better than Hisoka's.

"Given the short notice… I will keep the phase the same as what Togari had planned." He smiled, eyes closed, making them wait for actual directions. Lan narrowed her eyes, suspicious of what the foxbear-wearing-bastard had had in mind. "In this forest live a large reptile species called frilled chameleons." Her stomach dropped. "In order to pass, you have to hunt and kill an adult, and then bring it here by midnight. That is all."

"What the hell do you mean hunt and kill a frilled chameleon?" Lan stepped forward, rage plainly across her face. It took her last ounce of control not to snarl her words, or let her bloodlust run absolutely wild as she launched herself at him. The name sounded harmless, but, in truth, the creatures were three-to-four-meter-long apex predators with camouflage that made them nearly invisible. Forget sixteen adults within range of this clearing; at most there were two or three. And she didn't want a single one to die. "They are a threatened species, perhaps even endangered since no one can accurately gauge the population. You are _not_ sending us out to kill them."

"Those are the rules," he said dismissively, her demand ignored. In that moment, a few participants scattered to run into the forest, not interested in wasting their precious time listening to her complaints. They only had a scant eleven hours, after all. "Feel free to leave if you don't wish to complete the exam," he suggested, infuriating her more.

Her hands shook as she clenched them, nails digging into her palms. She bit back a frustrated scream, a feral growl escaping instead. Oh, she wouldn't be walking off peacefully. He made her do this. "Aren't Hunters supposed to preserve nature?" she half-hissed as she whipped around to stalk off into the forest. Lan let her bloodlust flare, the Chairman be damned. This entire exam be damned.

"Are you leaving then, miss Paijin?"

"No!" she snapped without looking at the maddening man, her mask of calm also be damned. Saying her last name added to the insult this exam had become.

The Chairman did nothing to stop her, even if he must know what she planned to do. It was written in her bloodlust that this pushed her over an edge. Sadistic old man, it made sense that he led the Hypocrite Association.

* * *

The forest blurred as she stormed through the trees. Lan's nails remained deep in her palms with near blood-drawing force. She could only hear the wind and the blood pulsating in her ears. Every living creature fled or fell silent as fury openly reigned over her aura. She sincerely hoped the frilled chameleons took her hint that danger lurked in their home today. She also hoped she terrified participants into fleeing with her toxic bloodlust flared like this.

In the few moments since leaving the clearing, she tracked down a target, now following a trail of disturbed foliage and footprints in damp soil. For the hundredth time this exam, she wished she had Nemmi with her. He could maneuver through the forest faster than her, locate prey with En, and then eliminate the unfortunate participants without even being seen.

Instead, she had to pick them off one by one. Time-consuming even if she kept her inhuman pace.

The first she sighted was the snake charmer. He ran through the trees, robes billowing, his snakes flicking their tongues to taste the air. Resourceful, using them to track an invisible predator- perhaps he even knew that frilled chameleons had such camouflage. More disturbing was that the man had already stumbled upon a trail marked with slashed bark and clawed footprints. It could not be happenstance that they chose to start the exam in that clearing; the creatures frequented the immediate area, ensuring at least one participant would cross paths with them.

Silently, her feet left the ground as a snake whipped around, alerted by the scent of rage and death. Despite not being in Zetsu like her usual methods required, this was her expertise: ambush hunting. She had killed supposed Hunters like this, back in Anchi, stalking them before jumping them with her Nen abilities. They had dared to pursue Yan and Tai, and she made them pay dearly for it. The woods outside that small village were rumored to be haunted by phantom beasts, but Lan ruthlessly assisted in creating those rumors. Anyone that went in there with the intent to harm her friends died gruesomely- no matter if they were pulled apart by Yan, Tai, or Lan herself.

The snake charmer spun around as Lan leapt from a branch. Her heel slammed into his shoulder, the blow sending him crashing into the dirt. As he scrambled to stand, dislocated shoulder screaming with agony, more snakes emerged from his robes. The hissing, writhing mass of anger slithered towards her.

"I won't kill you," she mumbled, watching as a brightly colored snake coiled to launch itself at her. Venomous. She bent her knees, deciding not to risk it scraping her skin. Flesh wounds she could handle, but venom would still wreak havoc on her body despite her insensitivity to pain. "Because I like your snakes."

She darted to the side as the snakes lashed out. Moving faster than a human should, the snake charmer struggled to follow Lan, Nen's effects unknown to him. The snakes were quicker to react, swiveling their heads, bodies tensing to pursue. In one swift hit to the neck, the snake charmer anticlimactically fell to the ground with a dull thud. The mass of snakes swarmed to protect their fallen master, but, by then, Lan had already turned to leave. She had no reason to harm them; the charmer would wake up soon, taking the snakes with him.

Immediately, she resumed running down the trail, a single thought flying through her mind: one of fifteen down.

* * *

Shouting drew her to her next targets. She paused in the shadow of a tree to momentarily assess the situation. Two men, apparently fighting each other judging their injuries and arguing. One shakily stepped forward with a hatchet in hand, dragging a leg with a blow dart stabbed deep into the thigh. Poison of some sort, presumably from his opponent. The other, the man with an odd club-shaped weapon, sunglasses, and puffed collar, stood with a bleeding gash on his arm. Judging his weapon drooping to the ground, his dominant hand could no longer support it with the injury. Despite their failing conditions, they fought over rights to the trail leading to their quarry.

She wouldn't allow either to continue this farce of an exam.

A twig snap made the collared man's head whip her direction. He didn't have a chance to dodge the Shu-enforced stick as it collided with his weapon, both shattering on impact. He charged forward to fight, drawing a knife, blade glimmering with the last sparks of daylight. As he lashed out, Lan dropped under his swing before propelling herself forward and behind him. A kick to his knee disrupted his balance. He stumbled as she stood. A well-placed kick to his back sent him to the ground with a grunt. He joined the other man, who had succumbed to whatever toxin had been on the blow dart, in unconsciousness.

Without lingering, Lan followed the trail to continue her rampage.

She regained enough sense to recognize that indiscriminately killing the other participants would stain her reputation perhaps as badly as whatever Fanghe had done. It'd potentially waste everything she had been working towards.

Mercy… She could show mercy. Right? This wasn't self-defense, or even protecting friends. People were more important than animals, yes? They were told to do this by someone in authority, so they had to, right? Killing them for that would wrong. Rationally, she understood that she was wrong, yet how she felt...

"No way," she hissed. Her self-restraint only extended so far, and this certainly broke her limits- which were already strained by days sleep deprivation and stress.

 _They deserve it_ , repeated in her mind on an unending loop. The chameleons were simply trying to exist. The Association had no right to impose control on nature only to sentence the creatures to death for something as silly as an exam. Hunters didn't deserve mercy, not if they tried to rip away freedom and life for petty reasons based in unwarranted pride and baseless authority. No one should be kept in a cage, will stripped away, life subject to passing whims based in resentment.

One second she'd be the most important thing in existence, the next a reminder of his every misfortune, her face cursed with familial resemblance. A means to an end, nothing else, not a child with feelings. Something to be used and controlled. That's all she ever was to him.

She shook her head before her brain projected more memories onto the present. The past should die with the rest of Paijin line already! She didn't want to remember it… She didn't need it.

Lan picked up her pace, sprinting as she shoved her thoughts back into the crevice they crawled out from.

* * *

Another commotion made her heart pound erratically, feet striking soil thunderously as stealth was forgotten. Agonized screams mixed with antagonized growls in a symphony of pain. _Too late_ … A battle had already begun despite her best efforts to prevent such. And the shouts and screams, varying in pitch and pain, showed multiple participants had cornered a single chameleon. Her blood boiled at a reverberating hiss transforming into a pained yowl.

She crashed into an arena carved from slashed trees and shredded ground. Four acknowledged her arrival with eyes flickering to her before returning to the rampaging creature. Two bodies lie on the ground in piles of blood and gore, eviscerated by claws, limbs severed by teeth, stench of death lingering in damp air. Lan bit her lip to keep a gasp or scream from escaping. Most horrifically, the large reptile in the center of the hostile crowd had an eye stabbed out, oozing blood down its stained face, its lightly scaled body littered with bloody wounds from various weapons, and a forearm shattered and limp at its side. Those wounds… It wouldn't…

Its body flashed brilliantly with color, enraged, suffering, as it snapped its mouth onto the arm of a man charging for it.

Lan lost all sense of calm.

The nearest man didn't have the opportunity to scream. Aura gathered around her hand, wavering as she tried to keep it restrained while her brain screamed _don't use it_ , but still deadly sharp. His neck spewed blood as he choked, falling to the ground to writhe. With him struggling at her feet, eyes begging to be saved, Lan quickly dismissed Arri, recognizing she used her Hatsu recklessly and pointlessly. Her nails and Shu would have sufficed. Even digging out her actual knife would have been better. A stomp to his neck snapped it.

Another thought quickly followed. She had killed another participant. Otherwise unprovoked, no identifiable danger to her life, unlike the man on the cliff. Would… would the Association really allow for outright murder? Were _all_ Hunters really amoral? Was their illustrious public image all a lie?

A shriek snapped her back to the moment. The chameleon tossed a man to the side with a feral hiss, his arm torn from its socket. It pounced on him to render flesh with hooked claws. Another man poised himself to strike with a spear while the chameleon had its back towards him.

Her knife embedded in his skull as he drew back his spear. He stared at her, eyes dulling as he fell forward, legs collapsing beneath him. Lan callously watched. Her fading adrenaline high left the moment to sour, her victory hollow, her senses dissociating from the present. Failure wrenched at her heart instead. Especially as the chameleon fell to the ground, howling in pain as it thrashed to stand. A merciless death wrought with suffering… Like poison.

The final participant warily shifted his hold on his axe. His eyes shot between the monster in the throes of death and a bloodstained murderer. The wide wounds on the chameleon's back… He had been the cause.

"At," she mumbled, forcing the man's attention to her. "At least when I kill something, I don't make it suffer this long." A hard truth to admit, given she barely felt human enough to have any _humanity_. She didn't relish in causing pain. Perhaps because she had no concept of it, it didn't interest her, but few enemies deserved _this_ kind of suffering. Bleeding to death while in pain was a horrific, prolonged, way to die. Lan tore her eyes from the struggling animal, the man's frightened face dancing in her watery vision.

A normal human, not yet a Hunter, not yet baptized into the world Nen, the man had no chance. Before a scream could rip through his throat, before he could turn to run, she stood behind him. A hit to the base of the skull sent him sprawling. She tore the axe from his hands. As his body hit the ground, she buried the edge of his axe into his back, a spray of fresh blood coating her. Bright red soaked into rust stains across her chest, this the exam's toll.

She turned to the chameleon, stifling her aura, bloodlust fading away to leave melancholy. It stopped flailing with the change. Another second passed in silence, the creature's eye boring into hers with absolute fear. The defeated hiss it gave as its breathing became shallow made her bite her quivering lip. The soil beneath the creature was sticky with blood, its scales patched with red and brown, open wounds slick. The bright reds and oranges of its hide faded, paling to muted grey.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her sleeve across her face when she felt tears escape. With tentative steps, she walked to stand next to the fallen chameleon.

It would die. Nothing could prevent that now. Even knowing what needed to happen next, she froze, hands shaking, more tears falling as her childhood meshed with the present. On moment she would see the chameleon, littered with wounds, struggling to draw painful breaths. The next she would see a crow, body convulsing in her hands, strangled squawks caught in his throat as poison slowly killed him. She had failed to protect her only friend… And failing to protect the chameleon reopened the old wound buried in repression and denial.

It wasn't fair.

This phase of the exam may as well have crushed any childish idealism she had left. There was no such thing as fair. The whole world was as corrupt as Anchi. As the Paijin. As her father. As Fanghe. Even Hunters, who she thought mostly did right by the world, were proven as rotten as the rest. The Chairman, figurehead of the Association, let them run wild, indiscriminately killing what they were meant to protect.

Hypocrisy was the standard. Truths were buried in lies. Trust was for fools.

This was undoubtedly, unfortunately where she belonged.

She kneeled next the chameleon's head, its eye fluttering open for a second before falling closed in exhaustion. After a shaky inhale, she raised her hand, her aura creeping outward. The pale blue wave grew rigid and covered her hand, Nen sharpening like a metal blade. She would need to play the merciful executioner again. But, this creature's neck was too big to simply snap.

Unlike Nemmi's.

* * *

Lan dropped the chameleon's body at the Chairman's feet before stalking away. It had already given its life. The least she could do was use its sacrifice to pass the exam while hoping no one else did. An hour remained. She doubted she could track down the other six participants that had taken off in the opposite direction ten hours ago. Not without Nemmi.

"You must be a very caring girl to feel such compassion," the Chairman commented. A sly remark, considering she had slaughtered three people in her ultimately pointless rampage. "If it helps your conscience, the corpses will be brought to an expert for examination, the data used to make equipment to better track them."

"Should have sent professionals that know how to kill," she said beneath her breath, his "comfort" not welcome. She sat on the ground, legs pulled to her chest as she glared at the horizon, childishly brooding.

A few moments later he added, "This was the final phase. Congratulations on passing the exam, Miss Paijin."

"I'm not in the mood to talk about my heritage." Not that she ever wanted to talk about her past. Just, right now… She felt too exhausted to even try.

"It has been quite some time since a Paijin took the exam," he continued, utterly ignoring her polite request to shut the hell up. "Over twenty years, I believe. But we can talk about that later during your exit interview, I suppose."

"So, the exam isn't over. Liar."

After he gave a single laugh, silence fell between them. The cold night air rustling through the forest and the whoosh of the airship overhead kept them company as they waited for midnight to arrive. The reek of drying blood made Lan nauseous.

She would have welcomed a downpour.


	6. Bittersweet Victory: Malignant Memories

Ten minutes before midnight heralded a second corpse. The young man from the third phase dragged a chameleon by the tail, dirtying its lifeless, blood-stained body in a final insult. Much like he had with her, Chairman _Netero_ \- as Tali had called him when she updated him on Togari's condition (alive, sadly)- congratulated the excited boy. He then proceeded to cheerfully yell how he had finally passed, this his third try or something.

Lan quickly tuned him out, her mood more than spoiled. It would take one wrong statement for her to snap. But, he now had Hunter status, and Hunters weren't supposed to hunt each other. Netero kindly mentioned that to her as her bloodlust flared to life. Creepy old man handled bloodlust too well.

They climbed aboard the airship to reach their final destination: a nearby city with an Association branch office. It would have been unbearable if she had to spend the ride with… With anyone. Instead, like a zombie, she set out to do menial tasks after being pointed towards a cabin.

A shower came first.

Lan stood in front of a mirror, appalled. Cheek swollen and vibrant purple, hair mangled with twigs and leaves, dried blood flaking from her neck downward, and eyes rimmed red from tears, she looked as defeated as she felt. She didn't bother undressing first. Warm, clean water after days in the wilderness coaxed her into staying longer than necessary, even if she had to peel wet clothes from her skin. Not wanting to think, she practiced Ten out of habit, forcing her focus from her thoughts to mediation. Staring blankly at a wall was much easier than actually confronting her emotions. It always had been.

She face-planted on a bed after leaving the shower, not motivated enough to find food and risk conversation with anyone wandering the airship. Her freshly washed clothes dried next to a vent blowing freezing air. She ended up wrapped in the scratchy blankets, damp towel still around her bruise-laden body. A second was secured over her shoulders when she remembered she had stupid tattoos to hide- drunk Lan was no longer allowed to make impulsive decisions. She also barely remembered to draw the extra moles back onto her face with the spare makeup she had stashed in her bag. Had to keep up appearances until she walked out of this place, license in hand.

She wanted her phone more than anything else. Mindlessly surfing the internet, reading a book, or maybe calling Auntie- even if she would just ask how the exam went- would be a nice distraction from her current mood. Hell, Hisoka would have been an option too if she could think of some topic entertaining enough that he'd bother with her. Anything to distract her until she shoved her emotions aside would be welcomed.

Instead, she had absolute silence stretched over a couple of hours to reflect on unpleasant things…

The intercom woke her from an accidental nap. After stumbling from her tangled mess of towels, blankets, and sheets, she hastily got dressed. Footsteps down the hall motivated her to move quickly. Very unpleasant, clothes still damp and now freezing from the air conditioning. Only a step into the hallway, and she was whisked off to the finale of the exam: an interview.

The strange bean-headed man that had handed her a tag at the start of the exam lead her from the airship to an office building. The sky remained dark, clouds abating, a soft glow to the east hinting at morning. She refused to acknowledge the other new Hunter babbling at her side, trying to be friendly with her by way of boring small talk- the clearing weather, of all things. The bean left them outside a conference room, the young man first to have his so-called exit interview.

She sat in numb silence for a few moments.

Reality started to sink in again, returning her from her nap-induced daze. She hated how she had arrived at this point, but a license was within reach. She _almost_ felt happy to be closer to fulfilling her goal. She could find a Nen instructor. She would get stronger, and not have to live in as much fear of her sister's garbage as before. She could begin finding something to invest herself in beyond flits of fancy, maybe find some trustworthy friends along the way.

To think the final part of the exam would rely on her people skills, though. A flicker of an unimpressed smile appeared on her face at the revelation.

The door creaked open several minutes later, the young man walking out with his precious plastic card and a stack of papers. His exit signaled her to stand and enter. Walking through the doorway, three people greeted her, all familiar faces at this point. Morel and Tali sat on either side of Netero. Two empty chairs on either side of them hinted that all the examiners should have attended. Lan might have walked out if Togari had dragged his half-corpse here. (She wondered if he killed that foxbear himself or bought the vest somewhere. Bastard.) Sybil's absence was relieving, the woman unsettling in a way Lan couldn't quite place- something about her aura had made her skin crawl in a manner that even Hisoka's hadn't.

She sat down to begin the final trial of the exam.

"Sooo," Tali began, shrill voice dragging out the word. "What sort of Hunter do you want to be? Standard question, by the way. I already said you'd be a Beast Hunter, but apparently they don't believe me." She shot a glare at Morel and Netero, huffing when they ignored her.

"I don't know," she admitted, Tali raising a suspicious eyebrow at her like she was lying. "I was considering Blacklist Hunter as well." An exciting job, obviously. Satisfying her thrill craving more often would be nice. The title of Beast Hunter had seemed perfect at the start of the exam, but now… Other Hunters still hunted rare creatures. If she killed them on the basis they were interfering with her preservation efforts, would her beliefs override the rule against killing other Hunters? She already pushed her luck during the exam. Having the entire Association after her would be her end. She wasn't Fanghe.

"Then," Morel said after her pause dragged on, "Why did you want to become a Hunter?" His voice lacked an accusatory tone, it just another standard question. It was difficult to read his expression, sunglasses blocking his eyes.

Netero might be the only one that cared about her family name enough to comment on it. He might also just be the only one familiar with Fanghe; she wasn't renowned worldwide, more so a phantom memory haunting those that had the misfortune of meeting her. Lan tended to forget that, since her father had spoken of Fanghe like some villainous deity rather than his own offspring.

"I…" Lan faltered under Netero's gaze. While he smiled cheerfully, his eyes reflected unnerving interest. This _simple_ interview felt like an interrogation. One where lies should be kept to a minimum least they come back to bite her later. "I thought it would mesh with my interests. Hunters also have access to information and places that normal people don't. I…" How embarrassing to admit this to a room of Nen-users. "I also need a Nen instructor. I don't understand defensive techniques." Her eyes on the table, she pointed to her cheek as a prime example. Hisoka hadn't even struck her as hard as he probably could have; using his Nen combined with his physical strength would have broken teeth, if not detached her entire jaw. An _elbow_ could have killed her, and that was absolutely pathetic.

Her eyes jerked back to Netero when he chuckled. "Lanfen Paijin," he began, mirth in his eyes, "do you know what Fanghe wanted when she became a Hunter?"

"To learn about Nen?" Lan answered, unsure. No one liked to talk about her sister beyond cursing her name, honestly. Lan only knew that Fanghe became a Hunter, learned Nen, and promptly did something to anger the Association. Did… did her sister answer the same as she had? Lan felt her stomach drop at the thought. "Whatever it was that she did, I have no intention of doing the same." Was that his concern? "I never even knew her, really," she added as a quiet afterthought.

Fanghe died when Lan was three. During her attack on the Bai Ze, her throat was slit by the very assassins she had hired… Lan figured her father had masterminded it, because he loathed Fanghe, but it might have been retaliation by the Bai Ze. Or, Fanghe might have even ordered it herself to prove some point; Auntie once called Fanghe extreme in her methods. All Lan knew was that Fanghe's group indiscriminately came after the Paijin and Bai Ze with vengeance…

Regardless, Lan hated being on the spot for her sister's nonsense. It's not like she could explain the motives of the long dead. She shifted in her chair, fingers pulling at a thread on her shredded pants.

"You don't know?" Netero sat back in his chair as Lan's wide eyes snapped to his. "Fanghe killed her Nen instructor before going off to form the Fan Shi." Blunt and said with a smile, his words left her speechless.

The Fan Shi… her sister's loyal group of child soldiers. "I understand," she whispered, thread snapping as she pulled too hard. Frightening group. Her father had been absolutely terrified of them, going as far as moving the family into seclusion to hide from them. But, in the end, even that didn't save him… Two had attacked the house, lit it aflame. As she had fled the chaos, she heard them arguing over finding her, sounding a bit desperate that she might have died. If she hadn't used Zetsu or had Nemmi… Lan honestly had no idea what would have become of her. Auntie always said the Fan Shi wasn't made of the most stable of individuals. She had left it at that, too, not keen on talking about them. The only clues Lan had about the Fan Shi members were a few of their gifts to her mother, namely a book with a collection of myths, a pin-board of butterflies, and an elaborately bent paperclip on a necklace.

"I…" Lan blankly stared forward, feeling like she needed to say something, but her brain empty. She certainly wouldn't be admitting that she feared the Fan Shi. Definitely not that she wanted to improve her Nen to protect herself _from_ the Fan Shi.

"Well, congratulations Lanfen." Netero smiled, breaking the heavy silence as he motioned for Tali to hand over a stack of papers and a small box. The pink-haired woman rolled her eyes dramatically, pushing the stack to Lan. As Lan opened the box, Netero explained, " _That_ is your Hunter License. You only get one, so don't lose it. It won't be replaced for any reason."

"The book has the rules and perks of being a Hunter," Tali cut in, crossing her arms over her chest. "Since new Hunters are idiots, I will be explaining the guidelines in painstaking detail after this interview. Stupid Sybil, ditching early. This was supposed to her job."

Lan absently nodded, turning the plastic card in her hand. All of this for a scrap of plastic… It felt a bit insulting.

"I suggest going onto the Hunter website to find an instructor," Morel helpfully added. Sound advice. Lan still respected him more than the other examiners, even if his exam had involved an ungodly amount of swimming. "It'll help you out. Good luck, kid."

Tali pushed her chair back with a horrendous scrape, prancing towards the door with impatience. "Come on, newbie." This once, Lan appreciated Tali. She no longer wished to be on trial. "I have to get back to Miss Cluck before the alcoe plant withers. I worked so hard to find one, but it was better than paying some rude participant."

Never mind. Tali continued to eat her nerves.

Lan stood, shoving her license into her bag next to the playing card, and grabbed the other papers before following Tali out into the hall. The young man rose from his chair, quickly taking to chatting with Tali, allowing Lan a break. While not painless, the brief interview had gone well enough that she got her license. A bit of hope after yesterday's events.

She was excited to put this process behind her, and begin finding what she wanted out of life.

* * *

Lan unceremoniously plopped into the chair, snagging an early morning appointment. She caught herself in the mirror. Still bruised. Very bruised. Yellowing now, too. At least she had a change of clothes. The questioning looks she had gotten at five this morning when she went shopping were something else. One person even offered to call the police _for_ her; she was the victim of an embarrassing defeat, nothing more. It was a change, strangers sincerely offering help through contacting the police. In Anchi, 'calling the police' was a common threat or joke depending on the circumstances.

"Good morning!" The stylist stepped to Lan's side, checking over her supplies. Her customer service voice was grating this early; the stylist looked dead tired, the pep entirely fake. Lan had had enough of that attitude from Tali- her lecture had been awfully longwinded for someone that didn't want to be there. "What would you like done today, miss?"

"To the shoulders. Try to even it out in the front." Lan leaned back, trying to ignore the woman running a comb through her hair before cutting the mess.

Only reason she went to an actual salon was because she had too much hair to cut on her own- at least if she wanted it straight across and not further massacred. In the past, Auntie would cut her hair. The last few times, though, Lan actually had Nemmi trim it. But, given both were unreachable, she came here to make due. Once she went back home, she would dye it closer to its original natural brown.

Her lips twitched to smile. She wanted a new style, Hisoka's little stunt only accelerating the inevitable. Auntie always teased her for her style shifts, but Lan honestly liked to play dress up. She hated having to give up on her impulsive style changes to grow her hair out, so she could properly masquerade as Fanghe. Inspired by a certain flamboyantly dressed clown and pent up creativity, she wanted to find something nearing outright ridiculous this time.

She already had an idea for her hair once she slipped away from the Association. She wanted to shave off the entire chunk Hisoka had grabbed, make it a reminder of her vow to face him again.

Because she would. She would hunt that man down if that's what it took. She would prove she wasn't as flounderingly weak as she came off during the exam. The battle she wanted would end with them _both_ covered in bruises, cuts, and blood. It would also end with her preferably alive, receiving praise for being another monster in human skin, untouchable to most, defeated by few. She wanted to be a fellow predator instead of weak-willed prey bound to die.

The clatter of metal on tile abruptly pulled Lan from her thoughts. Scissors lay on the floor in a pile of discarded hair. The stylist stared at her in wide-eyed terror, like she had just threatened the woman and her every relative. It took Lan a moment to notice she let her bloodlust slip as she thought about her magician friend.

Either her control had grown incredibly poor, or not having Nemmi affected how much Nen she had access to. That made sense, actually. How she didn't think of this earlier reflected how well she sometimes thought things through- in her defense, it had been _years_ since she had last dismissed Nemmi. Of course not manifesting Nemmi left her more Nen to use elsewhere, including for her emotions to rage with. It explained her worse-than-usual control over Arri as well. Damn. If she noticed this sooner, she might not have attracted…

No. She would have drooled over Hisoka regardless. Powerful. Confident. Weird. They even held an odd, mutual curiosity towards each other. Their meeting had been inevitable. _Birds of a feather? Or do I just want to be him?_ she thought in amusement.

"You may continue," Lan said with a hint of impatience when the stylist just kept gawking at her. The woman came out of her stupor, clumsily retrieving her scissors from the floor before meekly continuing. "Just… A bit excited, is all," she mumbled, realizing she had scared the harmless woman to death and then rudely demanded for her to get over it. Auntie would be livid if she didn't half-apologize somehow.

Perhaps thinking about Hisoka should wait. He riled her up in the worst of ways.

* * *

Barely five minutes into her walk to a library to begin her search for an instructor, Lan dead-stopped outside a display window. Fluffy. White. Bunny-shaped with nubs for horns. Baby marsh rabbits, she recognized, bitter smile trying to form along with the tick in her eyebrow. Adults were docile unless perturbed; anger them and face disembowelment by horns. Adorable _and highly illegal to sell and own_. Did she mention the cages were much too small? And horribly dirty?

It was like the exam all over again, until she remembered she was a licensed Hunter and this was a regular sleazy pet store well within her jurisdiction to punish.

"Hey," she said to catch the attention of the white-clad man next to her. He stood with his shoulders tense and jaw clenched. Underneath the ridiculous pompadour, he appeared equally irritated as his eyes glared a hole through the glass at the marsh rabbits. His grocery bags were long forgotten at his feet, his tight fists shaking at his sides. "You want to round up the owners or animals?"

"Owners," he answered, following her to the front door without a second thought.

Ten minutes later, Lan held two rabbits in her arms, snuggling them, as the man handed the store owners over to the police. He flashed his Hunter License when the owners continued to complain about him "stealing their property" and "taking them hostage." They had tried the same with her, saying she damaged private property. They were lucky she only broke the door and not, say, them. A Hunter License made the police reluctantly accommodating indeed.

How useful. The few times she did this, she had to bribe the police or steal the animals. (In Anchi, she was forced to operate around the law considering the police were essentially Bai Ze lackeys). Auntie complained it was very disruptive to their vacations, especially after the time she toted around a caiman the duration of a trip in Yorknew. Now she could just show her license to have the police do her bidding. The Hunter website likely had a list of nearby sanctuaries and the like as well.

Maybe being a Beast Hunter was her calling, Association hypocrisy aside.

Pompadour walked over to her once the police appeared to have a handle on the situation. "Can't believe scum like that! Keeping animals in those conditions, selling endangered species as pets," he mumbled in frustration. "My name's Knuckle, by the way." He held out his hand, Lan offering him a rabbit instead. He glanced around before tenderly patting the rabbit's head. He then quickly picked his grocery bags up, trying to ignore the bunnies like he didn't want to cuddle with them. He failed, his eyes always returning to them.

"Lanfen," she answered, deciding she appreciated this Knuckle. "Do you have any idea where to take them?" As much as she would love to keep them, build a nice, expansive pen for them back in Anchi, she didn't quite have that much money. Feeding Yan and Tai over a drought ate through her funds astonishingly fast…

"Yeah, I know a guy. Runs a nice preservation in Kukan'yu." She nodded in response. A preservation there would be best, as it would be near their home habitat: the Numere Wetlands. Knuckle looked at the bags in his hands to the rabbits and back again.

"I can carry them." She would gladly carry them. And clean them, feed them, take a whole bunch of photos of them...

He hesitated a moment before nodding, starting to walk down the street with Lan in tow. "Nasty bruise you have," he commented, searching for something to fill the silence as they walked to wherever he was staying.

"Got elbowed by a manic clown." The truth was much more outrageous than any lie she could come up with. Her stomach looked worse than her cheek; unfortunately, Hisoka's knee was as sharp as his elbow. Forget the lovely mark his fist left. She wondered what sort of reaction she would gain from Knuckle if he saw all the damage. He looked tough, but his empathy for animals might extend to humans.

He stared at her, raising an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline to the joke. When she didn't add, he shrugged dismissively. "Had to happen to someone. Guess you're just damn unlucky."

But, perhaps, her luck had finally improved. After studying the guy, he seemed capable enough. Considering his age, he probably became a Hunter within the last few years, learning Nen recently as well. He might be a potential lead.

"Knuckle, do you know a decent Nen-user willing to take on students?"

Knuckle didn't respond immediately, studying her. One of the rabbits began chewing a hole through her shirt sleeve. Lan instantly understood how ridiculous she must look when fawning over cute animals, because Knuckle seemed a blink away from tears when he whipped his head around. The sniffle confirmed he nearly cried at a bunny.

"I'm apprenticed to a guy right now. Not sure if he wants another student, but I'll definitely introduce you, put in a good word." He lifted a grocery bag, continuing, "He got called in by the Association two weeks ago. He made us swim possible exam routes for days as a training exercise," he muttered, sounding exasperated. "We were leaving today, and I got the grunt work. Good thing, I guess, since we saved those little guys."

"Knuckle," Lan said, voice gaining an edge of dread as her stomach dropped. The mere mention of swimming brought back the reek of seawater and the feel of sopping clothes. She should really learn not to comment on her luck. "Who, exactly, is your teacher?" Might as well confirm her fears.

"Huh? His name's Morel." Her single, delirious laugh in response made his eyebrow raise in question. "Know him or something?"

"He made me swim a few dozen kilometers in the dark." Her smile hid absolute misery. Oh, she had no doubt Morel would be an exceptional teacher given how impressive she found him. It was just the prospect of enduring _more_ swimming that made her want to cry. Part of her wanted him to immediately say no to teaching her. The more rational side knew it would help her reach her goals more quickly than searching databases for leads to lesser instructors.

"What?" Knuckle abruptly stopped, staring at her with wide eyes. "You're kidding me! You _just_ passed the Hunter Exam!?"

* * *

A week had passed since he had been disqualified from the Hunter Exam.

The Troupe had nothing planned, Chrollo slipping away as he usually did. Not particularly in the mood to wander aimlessly, hoping to come across someone worth killing, Hisoka decided to return to Heaven's Arena for some easy entertainment. It _had_ been a while. He probably had a deadline soon… Or did he forfeit one recently because no one interesting was around? Oh, well, it didn't matter.

Hisoka had been sitting in nighttime silence for a few hours now, a card tower precariously stacked from the floor onto the empty seat beside him. Airship rides were so dull...

The buzz of his phone captured his interest abnormally fast with nothing else keeping his attention. Few people had his number. Considering the Troupe had already disbanded until business arose, he doubted any of them would be trying to contact him. It was almost like they didn't like him. In fact, everyone seemed to avoid him if they could help it.

A simple message lit the screen. _"You didn't lie, right?"_ Following the text was an emoji: a bright yellow chick in a broken shell.

He stared at it, honestly a bit perplexed. People didn't send _him_ messages with emojis. He understood who sent it, the bird standing in for the word _fledgling_ , yet that made it more oddly amusing. The frightened girl from the exam had contacted him willingly, _and_ sent _him_ cutesy emojis like a teenaged girl- which, he supposed, she was. Strange little thing.

Perhaps forgoing a fight with the Chairman during the exam, coincidentally saving Lan from death, had been the correct decision.

* * *

_Hisoka paused his attack as the second phase examiner tossed his card aside to save the outstandingly weak fourth examiner. While she turned to treat the wailing man's wounds, Morel leapt from the airship, standing between Hisoka and his target._

_The question became how badly did he actually want to kill the disappointing examiner? That man wasn't worth the effort, their "fight" horribly boring, but his death would presumably result in the other two attacking. The woman would be a minor distraction in a fight with Morel. His actions already warranted disqualification, so he might as well try to have some actual fun._

_Another presence caused him to forget Morel. Subdued and well-hidden, it stole his curiosity. His gaze drifted. Directly behind oblivious Lan stood an elderly man, his outstretched hands poised to snap her neck. A grin split across Hisoka's face, aura seeped in bloodlust because she was his to break._

* * *

The Chairman had recognized the situation. Most likely, the old man had been watching the exam proceedings, and noticed that Lan held his interest enough that he preferred her alive... for now. A clever little distraction, threatening her. It brought Hisoka's attention away from Morel just long enough for him to offer a prerogative that Hisoka ultimately decided to humor; he had been in a good mood before the weak man interrupted his conversation with the little fledgling.

Hisoka would gain more if he left. He could take the exam again next year, find more potential opponents, identify more examiners worth fighting, and obtain his license to kill without all the mundane bothers of the legal system- among other perks, of course. Being a part of the Association, he would have access to more Hunters to fight, the Chairman included. As a bonus, he also got to keep his newest toy. With a bit of patience, he would reap the rewards of several battles instead of one.

So, he had relented.

He balanced his phone on the tip of his finger, losing interest in the events of the exam quickly. He had her number now, so there was really no need to answer her. He also preferred talking to texting. Hearing reactions were a cheap substitute for actual interaction, but much better than boring letters on a screen. It would be such a shame, too, simply texting her. Lan's reactions were half her entertainment value. Forcing her expression to shift from indifference to mortification, feeling her bloodlust and irritation escape as her restraint buckled, it was almost as fun as annoying Machi.

A few taps on the screen later, he waited, listening to the ringing with a touch of impatience. The call ended abruptly. She had _silenced him_. He felt momentarily offended. While he had nothing better to do, it irked him that she asked for his attention only to promptly ignore him.

Another message popped up on screen.

_"Not now."_

Stubborn girl. What could she be doing that she didn't want to talk? He glanced around the airship. Texting might be a boring way to communicate, but he _really_ had nothing else to keep himself entertained.

" _Ready for a rematch so soon~_ " He sent, of course adding a winking face with a star and teardrop. Very unsatisfying. He would have to get absolutely vulgar to embarrass her with letters, and, even then, he wouldn't see her expression.

_"I'm training."_

He stared at the message. Why did she, exactly, contact him? People only contacted him when they wanted something particularly badly. "Show up to a mission for once," was a popular request. Didn't she just want to confirm his number? She already had. Why try to keep up a conversation, then?

A testament to his overwhelming boredom, he texted back, _"Are you lonely without me, dear?"_

 _"I can't stand to be without you another moment."_ An immediate response sent without a second thought. _"I long for the caress of your fist."_

While an obvious lie with a heaping amount of sarcasm, it amused him. She felt she had more control hiding behind letters. He wondered how far she was willing to take the act, if she would try to do this in person when the crossed paths again.

 _"I had a question,"_ she sent before he could derail the conversation with fantastically inappropriate remarks. _"What brand of makeup do you use? I need something more waterproof."_

An odd question to consider a priority, Hisoka thought while responding anyway. Usually the only makeup question people directed at him was _Why?_ Her lack of immediate response led him to believe she had what she wanted from him. Still, to contact _him_ for makeup tips when there were plenty of other people in the world _not_ planning to kill her; weird girl mustn't have many friends.

Was this, perhaps, her attempt at being friendly? He hummed, now staring at the screen in amusement. How adorable, she wanted him to be her friend. Gaining her trust before breaking her, now that sounded like an entertaining game to play as he waited for her potential to peak. The devastation and betrayal that would be on her face when he ended her life would be the cherry on top of the usual despairing look of defeat.

 _"Ripen well, my little fruit,"_ he typed with a growing grin, eyes lit by the pale glow of the phone. _"I look forward to slicing you open and devouring you whole~"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the exam! I know that the texting portion can look nicer, like, with emojis actually in it? I just don't know how, I'm still learning this platform. When I figure out how to do more "complex" stuff, I'll be back to clean it up further. I just wanted to finish the exam arc to provide a better idea of what the story will be like.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Boredom and Cellphones: Odd Obsessions

_One Year and Four Months Later_

Lan shifted, now sprawled across the couch in the early afternoon sun. No one in the small library shot her a second glance considering it was Lan's usual hangout and Auntie had made decent contributions to sustain it. Auntie needed some way to get her niece out of the house for a few hours a day- that _didn't_ involve dangerous activities like saber-bear wrangling. Lan lazily played with her phone, looking for something to do with herself.

It had been a long year.

Almost immediately after the Hunter Exam, she began training on that nightmarish boat of Morel's. As grateful as she was to him for accepting her as a student, he could be very unreasonable. Swimming became a forbidden topic. Lan found it a miracle the stink of seawater didn't become her permanent scent after all the swimming Morel put her through. His punishment for slacking often involved swimming a couple dozen kilometers behind the boat, or, worse, dragging the entire boat if he was in a particularly poor mood. Like when Hisoka had decided to incessantly call her until she picked up, but she had been in the middle of sparring with Knuckle on the deck, her phone in the cabin with the sound on. Whatever Hisoka had said to Morel when he had answered, it had resulted in hours of misery. As well as concern, Morel asking if she needed help getting away from the lunatic- he seemed worried when she had said "not yet." Underneath the calm, aloof facade, Morel was as soft-hearted as Knuckle.

After four months of grueling training with Morel, Knuckle, and Shoot, she left to train on her own. She had spent two full months refining her techniques. During the week it took to reform Nemmi, she practiced Ren, holding it as long as she could before she fell unconscious.

Not much could be done with Nemmi. She already had a wild number of restrictions and conditions with him- grieving ten-year-olds without proper guidance shouldn't be allowed to choose Nen abilities.

An irritated squawk and tug at her aura made her eyes drift from her phone. Perched on the back of the couch, feathers ruffled, eyes narrowed, was Nemmi. Consisting solely of pale blue aura, the phantom crow appeared to glow in the sunlight.

"Come here," she whispered softly, holding her arm out. He obediently stepped on despite his scowl. "You're plenty useful the way you are, even if you're a bit ridiculous." She moved Nemmi to her shoulder, activating Ten, connecting her aura back with him. The aura that made him faded with time, her proficiency in emitter techniques limited. Having him near when not actively using him made his near constant upkeep easier.

While training, she made no changes to Nemmi, nor to her aura's consistency. Living metal suited her well enough. Refining Arri had been her main focus.

Learning how to use Ko, Ken, and Ryu helped her see gaping holes in how she utilized Arri. It also made her realize just how terrible her control over her aura output was. All or nothing was an unbelievably bad strategy for a transmuter. Direct, tight control over Arri had proven difficult to develop. She fought with it for an entire month before making any progress. Previously, she had struggled to _not_ manifest Arri fully upon activating it, but now she could cover select areas. Like her fingertips to make subtle claws with her aura. It was much more practical to adjust as necessary than waste energy. The complexity of Nemmi required Arri to function to perfection, after all. She needed a pure transmuter technique for flexibility in battle.

Overall, she supposed, her Nen was slightly less of a disaster than a year ago. She wished she could say the same thing about her Hunter status.

She had yet to choose her specialization even after dabbling in three options.

Blacklist hunting had promise, but annoyed her with its formalities. Her eyes narrowed with irritation just thinking about it. Information on high-level targets often went to established Hunters with more power and money at their disposal. Building a reputation would take time and money, and Lan felt reluctant to give up either.

She had rejoined Knuckle and Shoot for a month when the two invited her to the dense tropics of southern Yorbia to catalog new frog species; truly beast hunting at its finest. Admittedly, she had fun (with the exception of her face-planting in a muddy puddle while chasing a frog). Especially when Knuckle got his head stuck in a carnivorous plant and when they found car-sized bats. But, still, she had reservations after the events of the exam. She also… she didn't know how much Knuckle, Shoot, and Morel would like her if they knew about _all_ of her hobbies. She only showed a specific side around them, one lacking adrenaline addiction and homicidal tendencies. They didn't know about her family's past, either. In their eyes, she was just a fellow Hunter that took protecting animals a bit too seriously.

She did, however, end up pooling her money with Knuckle to start a reserve in Saherta. (She might have said no if the guy didn't hand her a baby griffon hawk and blubber a sob story about their dwindling numbers in the wild. Soft-hearted guy knew _exactly_ how to play her emotions...) It ensured that they would continue to work together, increasing the chances that she would do something to betray his trust.

A lovely blend of her choices, Poacher Hunter might be her best option. She could work beside researchers _and kill anyone that interfered_. It could hide bloodlust behind obligation, at least.

She just couldn't push herself to make a final decision, wary of placing herself in a potential cage. She would eternally adore animals, but could be fickle with other interests. Changing jobs as often as she changed clothes sounded better than being bound by a single title, surrounded by peers that could eventually question her validity. And what if she got bored? Her face scrunched at the mere thought.

In any case, her current predicament was her severe lack of funds. Between starting a reserve, traveling about, and feeding Yan and Tai, she had blown through her money. Lan had been on her phone for an hour, scouring the internet for get-rich-quick schemes that still sounded fun. Nothing had caught…

This _Heaven's Arena_ sounded promising. She clicked the link, only having a vague idea that the tower involved fighting. Past the promotional material spouting about thrilling battles and some grand Battle Olympia tournament, she found a list of popular fighters to see if they lived up to the hype the Arena created around itself.

She jolted to a sitting position. Her hand shook, the image on screen stealing her breath and forcing a quivering smile onto her face. Worried stares burrowed into her back, a few people shuffling away. Nemmi complained noisily while pulling at her aura, not so subtly telling her to stop with the overexcited, murderous aura she let slip at an image. Quickly, she stifled it, her eyes never leaving her phone as she essentially drooled over the potential lead- certainly not over Hisoka's stupid smirking face that she hadn't seen in a year, the expression bringing back fond memories of bruises and bloodlust.

Of course, he would love a place like Heaven's Arena! How did she not find this place sooner?

He refused to simply meet up somewhere, challenging her to find him if she wanted her rematch early; he seemed to be under the impression she wasn't ready. He also told her this in the most infuriating, inappropriate of ways, punctuating it with his custom winking or smiley faces.

Her fingers tapped away without hesitation, exiting the web browser, pulling up messaging, and clicking the row of card suits serving as his name. This was the first opportunity she had to track him to somewhere concrete; she couldn't waste it. Even if it meant embarrassing herself.

 _"Where are you? I want a rematch so badly, Hisoka. I need it."_ She threw in some hearts as bait. He rarely answered right away, especially text messages, but if he did it meant he was dreadfully bored. If he was bored, chances were he was somewhere doing nothing. The Heaven's Arena site said nothing about him being in an upcoming match, so if he was there sitting around…

_"How desperate~ As much as I want to play in your guts, you're just not ripe enough yet~"_

Lan swallowed thickly. He had long since narrowed in on what made her uncomfortable. She could play along with innuendos and outright dirty comments over text and muddle through actual calls, but the fruit comparisons made her fumble her words as her brain seized. At least this mention of cutting her apart didn't involve pictures… Whoever he had met with a few months ago had him so riled up that he had called her after sending her a picture of a mangled corpse, needles stabbed throughout. Then he had incoherently rambled about an assassin and wanting to fight him but not being able to for some obtuse reason that only made sense to him, before saying he wanted her. Asking him "in a homicidal or sexual way?" lead to a simple, concerning _yes_. She had let that conversation drop there before she found herself in a deeper hole.

His unusual response time showed painfully obvious boredom. She stood, using her typical mortified pause between messages to check bus schedules. One left for Kou-Ang in thirty minutes. She hastily began walking to the station, forgetting anything else she had planned now that she had Hisoka on her mind.

 _"A hint, then?_ " she sent back, Nemmi chiding her when she almost walked into the street and in front of a car. She quickly switched to the Heaven's Arena site, scanning a list of help-desk numbers, not keen on making a pointless trip through Kou-Ang, across the ocean, and to the arena only for him to be elsewhere. Finding a way to confirm he was there became a priority.

"Nemmi, please stop whining," she mumbled, his restless chatter directly in her ear. Being completely made of her life energy, he very much wanted to keep her alive. "He probably won't kill us… yet." The snap of his beak showed how much he adored that answer. "I just want a rematch."

She chewed her lip, no longer certain if that _was_ all she wanted from him. If he dropped out of her life after a rematch, things would be so dreadfully dull. They had an odd understanding of each other's more… depraved… quirks. Not that she considered herself quite at his level of strange; he still found ways to make even her uncomfortable. He just seemed to fall so far outside of normal, yet he was completely unbothered by it. She wanted to know how he managed to forget his humanity entirely.

A one-word message appeared: _"Nope~"_ The smiley face made her roll her eyes, but it also ended the conversation.

She forced herself to wait. If he felt bored enough, he would call her after she ignored him for an eternity, otherwise known as a full minute. The moment she decided he had lost interest, she called a number from the arena's site, hoping she picked the right one. She really didn't want to waste time being redirected from one person to the next in an endless loop.

"Can you tell me if one of the fighters is currently at the arena?" Lan asked over the pleasantries the poor arena employee tried to deliver. Nemmi chided her for her overexcitement as the employee tried to comprehend the sudden question.

"Um… I… Yes? I can check, I mean." The woman hesitated another moment, the soft clicking of keys barely audible over the phone. "Who are you looking for?"

"Hisoka."

Dead silence.

Lan thought the call disconnected, but a few reluctant key clacks following the heavy pause showed otherwise. His reputation must proceed him. Lan wondered if there were videos of his fights online… He was probably a fantastic showman with how theatrical he acted _without_ an audience. He loved attention.

"He is," the arena employee responded after an eternity.

Lan stumbled over a curb. She didn't expect to _actually_ find him. With her luck, she thought he'd have just left to go do whatever it was he did- stalk people, she assumed. A smile forced its way onto her face, her pace quickening with the promise of a rematch. Pitting her full strength against someone like Hisoka and making it out alive by more than a pity-to-waste-you would prove to herself her own capability. If she could stand a chance against Hisoka, then she might survive the Fan Shi as well.

"Is that all I can help you with today?"

The voice returned Lan to the moment. In a checklist flurry of thoughts, she assured that she had all the information she needed. "Does his room have a phone extension?" The website mentioned the top fighters were offered free rooms at some point; she presumed Hisoka had long since reached that level. If she pretended to know him, she guessed he would stay at the arena rather than some boring hotel. "His room number as well." Might as well ask now rather than have to search for him when she arrived.

"I… I don't… I'm not sure that I can…" The employee fumbled over her words. Hisoka must terrify people if someone wishing to visit him immediately made them sound crazy. "I'm sorry, but that goes against one of our policies. I-"

"He won't be pleased to hear how you treated his friend." Lan stepped in front of the station, her patience gone as she ran out of time. She would be going with or without this information. A flimsy threat to speed up the process seemed appropriate- although Auntie would be very disapproving, given the arena employee was just trying to do her job. "And, tell me, do you think anyone can cause him problems? How many of his opponents has he killed?" Actually, she wouldn't mind knowing her odds.

Another pause proceeded a timid string of numbers. As soon as Lan ended the call, she entered the numbers onto her phone before putting it away. She didn't want to forget while she debated her next move. Body on autopilot, she purchased a bus ticket and sat on a bench to wait.

Should she call him? Surely, he would find humor in her calling his room to gloat about finding him. But, would he then leave before she arrived? He made it clear he held little interest in a rematch with her. For now. She felt like a teenager trying to decide if she should call her crush… Except she wanted to set up a fight with a dangerous psychopath instead of a cute date with someone nice.

But no. Hisoka was at the arena for a reason. He might not have a match yet, but he wouldn't be there without some warped reason. He always seemed to be looking for something to entertain himself with, after all. Even though she happened to find him, he wouldn't abandon whatever he had set out to do just to avoid her; she wasn't worth it. Offering herself as a bit of entertainment in the meantime might actually convince him to give her a rematch.

Nemmi ruffled his feathers, shuffling his feet on her shoulder in irritation.

Such a grumpy Nen-bird today. He always killed her blind excitement by sensing obvious danger and gaining her reluctant acceptance of it. Like the time she was seven, sneaked out, and wanted to jump out of a tree onto a deer three times her size. Silly Nemmi had squawked to startle the deer away before chattering until she had safely climbed down. Of course, now… Now he wasn't… Her nails scrapped skin as she wrung her hands. Now he was Nen instead of flesh.

"I'll be fine, Nemmi," she mumbled, momentarily appeasing the phantom bird while drawing the eyes of an old man sitting next to her. A malice-tinged glare sent the man's attention forward. She sighed heavily, trying to shove that memory away before she ruined her otherwise good mood.

After sitting in silence, a few more people gathering around, the bus arrived with screeching brakes and rusted metal: the finest in rural transportation. Anchi, by no means, had a sound infrastructure outside of the largest cities. Corruption tended to skew priorities. She boarded, taking a torn-cushion seat next to a window, the seat beside it an irreparable, broken mess; her usual spot, really. The last time she rode it to Kou-Ang had been to go to the Hunter Exam…

She fished her phone back out of her pocket, finally making up her mind.

* * *

Hisoka placed another card onto his growing tower, a smile plastered to his face with his good mood.

He had a match coming up soon. Someone he had faced before, albeit hopefully stronger and at peak potential now. Kastro had arranged the match himself when he learned Hisoka had returned to the arena. A fabulous fight to the death amidst the cheering crowd, how wonderful it would be. Hisoka could hardly wait to crush Kastro, all his dutiful training culminating in his utter defeat as he crumpled to the ground.

Not to mention little Gon's mission to return the exam badge to him. That would be soon, too, considering how quickly the two children had picked up on Nen.

"Hmm?"

His eyes lifted from his cards, slowly wandering to the now ringing telephone. Few people called the room phone, but it was usually boring reporters seeking interviews, terrified staff members that needed something or another, or some weak-willed soul making death threats while too scared to actually confront him. Whoever it was happened to be quite insistent.

With the flick of his finger and a bit of aura, he pulled the phone from the holder to his hand, leaning back in the chair as he held it to his ear. "Yes?" he asked, dragging out the word longer than necessary.

"Hisoka."

A grin cut across his face at the familiar voice. His little fledgling managed to find him. "Naughty girl, teasing me when you already knew where I was. Where are your manners?" A rhetorical question considering Lan had very few manners, instead choosing to make blunt demands with falsified authority. Niceties seemed to slip her mind like she never learned politeness. Still, she outright teased him with her earlier messages begging for his location. He couldn't let her get away with that, as adorable as her false sense of control was. She was like a small dog that had no concept of size.

In the background of the call, he heard the whirr of an engine and the rattling of metal over uneven ground: a vehicle. He wondered how close she was, if she had found his location days or moments ago.

"I'm going to pay you a visit," she said, tone edged with excitement that she tried to bury under aloofness.

"You want a rematch so badly its making you sound a bit desperate, fledgling." Few people were so enthusiastic about fighting him; naïve Gon and eccentric Lan were the few exceptions. Although, Lan sought companionship as much as a rematch.

Over the last year, she had initiated an assortment of random conversations. The last one had been about high heels and their practicality in battle; Lan apparently lacked his grace, breaking her heels as she chased after someone- or something, she was never too specific. She also asked curious questions about him, like his favorite color- which he answered pink to lead into talking about Bungee Gum, just knowing she would be livid when she learned he had alluded to his ability. She seemed bizarrely taken with him.

"Acting like a stalker is no way to make friends," he admonished.

"You would know," she muttered, not reacting the way he wanted. She never denied nor confirmed that she wanted his friendship; she avoided it at all costs, making it apparent. If she remained so wary of trusting him, how was he supposed to thoroughly break her? "I expect you to be there when I get there tomorrow." Her confidence wavered with uncertainty, her statement becoming a question pleading to be answered with a promise.

He really had no reason to say _no_ to her visit. It would be days until Kastro arrived, a couple more before their match. Silly Gon had been injured, halting his training while he recovered, so Hisoka would be waiting even longer for their match. Lan always proved a useful distraction when he was bored, if nothing else.

He could also repay her for her behavior. Teasing him, pretending to flirt with him, trying to control him, _lying_ to him, she had been very misbehaved while hiding behind her phone. She needed a reminder that she was _his_ toy, not the other way around.

"See you soon, fledgling," he said, voice taking on a playful tone promising misery upon her arrival.

Silence hung over the line. Her pauses spoke more than her words, sometimes; it made finding her limits almost too easy. She recognized he had something less-than-pleasant in store for her. "See you soon, Hisoka." A simple click and the line went dead, her goodbye laced with anticipation rather than fear.

A tap to the tower as he walked away made it collapse, cards spreading out over the table. Such a strange girl, playing with him instead of running. It almost made it a shame to kill her; at least so soon, while she remained interesting.

* * *

Lan set her phone on her lap, leaning her head back into the seat, eyes closed and a small smile on her face. She had no idea what he planned to do when she got there, but it would certainly be unpleasant _and thrilling_.

Every moment during the exam, he had her on edge, her adrenaline spiking with his every move. It had been so exciting! In the years since the attack on the compound, the death of her father, she had never felt as alive as when she had met Hisoka. The risks she had taken since being freed from her father's control, in playing with man-eating beasts and killing would-be poachers, _nothing_ amounted to the danger Hisoka presented. It was intoxicating. Defiant and formerly sheltered, Auntie said it made for a hellish combination sure to get Lan killed. She was probably right, but…

Hisoka didn't plan to kill, at least not yet. She was by no means "ripened to perfection." One more battle to redeem her pride and a final glimpse at the depths of his strength were all she wanted. Then, she would avoid spurring further confrontation.

Lan shifted, a finger absently picking at the torn fabric on the seat. A frown set across her face.

She… she hoped they would be loosely friends, or, more likely, allies soon. While she might be spared death after one more battle, the following encounters could prove fatal. Unless, of course, she could convince him she was better kept alive. If they reached some sort of understanding, like whatever he had with this assassin he had mentioned, then she wouldn't need to cut ties with him. She, admittedly, found him rather entertaining to talk to and would miss their conversations. Even if her personality was a bit tamer, they held so many similarities. He also seemed like a trove of information gained through experience; a mentor, she supposed. It would be hard to find another person like him.

The soft click of Nemmi's beak made her open her eyes. He titled his head questioningly.

"Don't be silly," she said under her breath, even if the loud bus would drown out her talking to herself. Aside from their rematch, and disregarding her planned attempt to befriend him further, she had another goal. One that seemed more reasonable. "I have something to ask him."

While working as a Blacklist Hunter, she had come across another fascinatingly dangerous animal.

A band of ruthless thieves renowned in their power… An A-Class Bounty that no one could capture… The Phantom Troupe. Or, simply, the Spider. Lan needed to know just how powerful they were. Were they stronger than the Fan Shi? Hisoka? Morbid curiosity had seized her upon hearing of their exploits. To gain such notoriety, to become untouchable to even Hunters, she wanted to know what it took to reach such heights of infamy.

"Hisoka might know something about them…" she mumbled, shifting again as she tried to stifle the bubbly smile creeping onto her face. Nemmi's tugging at her aura reminded her to calm down, to not lose herself to irrational desires- like perhaps fighting a Troupe member to see how overwhelmingly powerful they were. Hisoka seemed a connoisseur of talent; he must know something about the Troupe. Unless they didn't meet his standards. In which case she might stand a chance against them, and could then collect the massive bounty on them. Doubtful, but it was a nice thought, if a bit disappointing considering their reputation.

"What, Nemmi?" The yanking on her shirt finally pulled her attention back to the bird. With an irked squawk, he pointed his beak at her phone, the screen on. Lan jolted forward, almost launching her phone as she panicked.

"Lanfen," Auntie said the second Lan had the phone to her ear. "You forgot about lunch, didn't you?"

Zero excuses came to mind.

"And do I hear an engine?" Auntie's tone shifted further into tired exasperation. "Where are you, Lanfen?"

"In a bus," she meekly responded. She felt guilty already, since she promised to have a nice, civil lunch with Auntie today. (The last attempt had been interrupted by Knuckle calling to give her an update on the reserve, Lan then on the phone for an hour making arrangements with him.) "On my way to Kou-Ang," she added, even more guilty. Kou-Ang was a dangerous place for Lan, as it was Bai Ze central… Seventeen-year-old, drunk, party-girl Lan had given Auntie plenty of other reasons to be worried about her going there, too. Even she regretted that phase… "To the airport, to go to the Republic of Padokea to…" Arrange a possible death match with a homicidal clown? Definitely couldn't tell Auntie the whole truth. "To meet with a friend?"

"A friend?" Too sharp to miss the questioning tone, Auntie sounded adequately dubious. "Which one? That nice Hunter boy, or the one you're always on the phone with?" Lan's silence made the answer clear, Auntie sighing heavily while likely rubbing her temples. Lan deliberately avoided talking about Hisoka, knowing Auntie wouldn't approve, but she got overly excited whenever he contacted her to the point Auntie knew when she was talking with him. Didn't help that the old woman knew enough about Nen to know what bloodlust felt like- she couldn't actually use Nen, though. "Did you at least eat before leaving?"

"No."

"Pack anything?"

"…"

"Lanfen, you should really make plans before recklessly running off." While blunt, motherly concern was reflected in her tone. Auntie _had_ essentially been her mother for a number of years.

Back at the compound, even before Lan's mother passed away, Auntie Meiling cared for her. Not the fake 'have anything you want but autotomy' her father and the staff provided, either. Meiling let her run around in the tiny courtyard, climb the trees, sit on the roof, and make friends with Nemmi. She also secretly gave her adventure novels to read, even if her father thought they were a bad influence. Because Lan couldn't feel pain, her father had obsessed over keeping her safe, anything remotely dangerous kept from her- and paperclips, since she tried to replicate the necklace one of the Fan Shi had made. Even while being taught Nen, a destructive force in itself, she was treated like a cracked porcelain doll. Not out of love, but to keep her alive to find some clue to some trinket Fanghe had supposedly left with her. One that the Fan Shi desperately wanted, and was also somehow connected to her learning Nen. The important details were fuzzy, either never heard from eavesdropping on whispered conversations or ignored because she was admittedly a self-absorbed, spoiled brat.

Still, Auntie had treated her like a normal child _because she had been one._

Eventually, Auntie had snapped and left. As much as Lan sometimes wanted to blame her for leaving her behind, she couldn't. Her father would have ruthlessly pursued them to get her back. Auntie… deserved better than hiding in the cage that had been the Paijin home. She took her in after the Fan Shi attack, too, even knowing it put her at risk of the same. And she also put up with Lan despite how she acted.

"Lanfen, eat when you get to Kou-Ang. I don't know why you're so obsessed with this _friend_ of yours, but you need to remember to take care of yourself and to not act so impulsively. Also, don't you dare forget-"

"I'll be back before the end of August," Lan interrupted, fear in her voice. Auntie's one hobby happened to be collecting expensive pottery; the thirty-minute rant about some vase being sold in September, Lan didn't ever want to hear it again. She still willingly went to these auctions every year, though, to act as Auntie's bodyguard in the off chance something went wrong.

"Good." Satisfied Lan would at least keep that promise, Auntie would let her go about her business unbothered. She wasn't overtly controlling, but she did worry and make firm suggestions when necessary. They had found a strange middle ground to Lan's eccentrics. "Talk to you later, dear."

"Yes, Auntie," Lan said with a slight nod before ending the call.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket, leaning into the seat to relax the duration of the ride. Maybe, once on the airship, she would space out to meditate and rest.

If it was anything like their first meeting, seeing Hisoka again would be draining in the best of ways.


	8. Reunion: Conditional Attraction

Heaven's Arena, fourth tallest tower in the world, was indeed dedicated to fighting.

Lan walked down a long hallway. Nemmi led her, hopping along while occasionally throwing glares at her. He had scouted the entire floor to find Hisoka's room while she had wandered about, seeking additional trouble.

When she had passed through the spectator entrance, she had seen a long line of new participants snaking around the building. Most were quite ordinary. Screens mounted on numerous walls played several different matches, many filled with screaming crowds. The higher the floor number, the stronger the fighters, and the more people that gathered to watch and gamble. Electric energy radiated throughout the tower. It would have been easy to get caught up in the excitement if she didn't have a goal.

But, the moment she had left the elevator on the 200th floor, the atmosphere changed. As she blindly poked around, a few fighters leered at her, sizing her up. A group of three men had actually approached her. One hid a missing arm beneath billowing sleeves, the other was bound to a wheelchair, and the last had no legs and instead balanced on a thin metal pole; their injuries might explain what happened to fighters that arrived on the floor without first knowing Nen. They mistook her for a new participant, asking if she was lost, kindly offering to sign up for a match with her. She tried to walk away, but they were persistent. A small flare of malice-laced aura paired with a sharp glare sent them into stunned silence long enough for her get away. Just like the Hunter Exam, the arena had weaklings preying on new arrivals. It was annoying, as well as pathetic. Fighting weak people just because you knew you could win, she didn't like it. There was no room for improvement without the presence of risk, battles becoming pointless menial tasks.

She hadn't noticed right away -rather, Nemmi returned and angrily told her- that she had picked up a stalker while milling about, needlessly flinging Nen around at fleas. When she had whipped around a corner a hallway ago, she caught the briefest glimpse of them. A white-haired boy, certainly no older than fourteen, had just as quickly ducked out of view. Nemmi confirmed he was still tailing her, the child obviously curious. Or bored. She guessed her aura had caught his attention, nothing more nefarious at work. Still, how he walked with absolute silence, few _adults_ could pull that off. If even the kids were this skilled, she could see why Hisoka liked this place. The arena may as well be a playground built just for him.

As much as she wanted to glance over her shoulder to better study the boy, she didn't want to startle him. He might decide to use Gyo -if he hadn't already, that is. Nemmi happened to be using In right now. While the kid had nothing to with her, she didn't want anyone to know about Nemmi, as fragile as he was. She felt no malice radiating from the boy. He could follow her if he wanted to, she had eventually decided. He'd ultimately lose interest; she wasn't _that_ interesting.

Nemmi stopped in front of a door, ruffling his feathers as she stepped beside him. She stared at the number, not questioning if Nemmi had lead her to the correct place, but with the realization that Hisoka was on the other side. A tug on her pant leg pulled her attention back to Nemmi. She tipped her head subtly. With a final glower and a beak snap, he scurried a few steps before flapping his wings to awkwardly fly around in the enclosed space. She waited for him to be safely around the corner before looking back at the door.

Slowly, she raised her hand. It shook, her knuckles too far to rap against the wooden door. A twitchy smile tried to form across her face.

Was she ready for this? _No_ , she mentally answered. This… event… required her to be on constant guard. Giddy excitement clouded her mind instead. Being in a small space with him, alone, she couldn't even imagine how nerve wracking it would be. His voice over the phone had hinted that this wouldn't be an easy exchange, either. He certainly had something planned.

Swallowing down anticipation, she knocked on the door.

The seconds crawled by. Her fingers curled inward to form tight fists, a poor attempt to quell her shaking nerves. The click of the bolt, the turning of the knob, and the creak of the hinge, it all become thunderous. Her heart drummed against her ribs, steady and loud. A smile crept onto her face as the door swung open.

Silence permeated the moment. They wordlessly appraised each other, nearly a year and a half between their first meeting and now.

Hisoka looked very much the same. He kept his wildly bright hair spiked upwards, as well as the star and teardrop designs on his cheeks and card suits on his shirt. A slight smirk was permanently fixed in place, that same mischievousness gleam in golden eyes. (Like a crocodile, she decided. Threatening in appearance, but when he actually decided to attack, he would be infinity more terrifying.) His pale skin contrasted heavily against his black top, the red and gold accents pleasing. She wondered where he found his clothes, because the pink band he wore over his torso under the cropped shirt to distort his appearance was interesting- Lan admittedly loved hot pink and black in combination, too. He also wore some impressive high heels she only wished she could wear. His aesthetic, if a bit eccentric, was on point.

He stared at her with a similar interest, his eyes trailing over her in the most unsettling manner.

Her appearance had undergone a more dramatic change. Since the exam, Lan had further cut her hair, keeping it shoulder length, adding an undercut on the left side to serve as her promise to have a rematch. She also dyed it back to brown, the roots similar enough it looked mostly natural. Her skin was a bit darker now, too, with all the time she spent outside during training and conservation work.

When she had arrived in Padokea late this afternoon, she realized she needed to change before going to the arena. Sandals and shorts seemed highly inappropriate for the occasion- almost like she had left without thinking things through beyond _rematch with Hisoka_. She kept her black sweatshirt on, exchanging shorts for grey pants and sandals for simple hiking boots. But the thing that completed her ridiculous outfit was a hideous sleeveless vest she found in a thrift store. Dark olive green, a garish skull embroidered on the back, the vest was horrifically gaudy, and she loved it.

"My, my," he commented, breaking the silence. "Fledgling, you have become such a rebellious princess since the exam."

Her grin faltered a bit before she shot back flatly, "And you still look like a jester or clown." She could only handle so many belittling terms, and princess wasn't one she particularly liked. Never mind that her father had called her that a few times…

"You _wound_ me." Hisoka pouted, a hand over his heart. In a second, his expression became almost neutral, only a spark of curiosity showing. "Now, I believe you want to arrange a date with me?" The way his tone shifted from playful to sultry made her freeze. His voice over the phone was one thing, another thing entirely in person. Mainly because he leaned into the doorframe, narrowing the distance between them, sharp eyes pinning her to the spot. She couldn't take a step away to collect herself like this. "Why not come in so we can painstakingly go over all the intimate details?"

She broke eye contact, trying to brush off his words. She had no reason to be so bothered by his bizarre humor anymore. His words meant next to nothing. Any foolish ideas that romance novels spurred in her head were inapplicable to Hisoka. She would be lucky to gain something akin to friendship from him.

"Sure," she responded blandly, squeezing by him to force her way inside. He followed after a quiet chuckle, amused with her reactions already.

The door closed when she stood in the center of the room, sealing her only easy escape route. Nothing caught her attention, surprisingly. The bed was neat and tidy, and the counters were empty of any belongings. Only a half-built tower on a small table showed Hisoka occupied the room. A large window offered a spectacular view of the city below, the evening still young, the sunset moments away. The only light in the room came from the window, no other lights, or even the tv, on to brighten the space. As she gawked, Hisoka passed by her, taking a seat at the table. He resumed building his card tower.

She pulled the other chair to the side to sit directly opposite of him.

An infuriating silence set in. She watched as his nimble fingers added another layer to the tall tower. Her fingers pulled at the hem of her sweatshirt, any stray threads snapped and abandoned on her lap. Inviting her in and then ignoring her…

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked offhandedly, attention still on his cards. A bluff. He knew making her wait ate at her nerves, so dragging her to a restaurant would make her wait even longer. He also knew that _no_ talking would drive her nuts faster than idle chatter.

"All right." As she reached into her pocket, Hisoka arched an eyebrow at her. "I can order delivery from somewhere." She quickly had her phone unlocked, searching a list of options- quite a few were _in_ Heaven's Arena itself. The last time she ate was in Kou-Ang anyway. "Anything you'd like?" she asked, remembering she knew nothing about his preferences beyond a random brand of gum.

A flick of his finger collapsed the tower to send cards across the table. "Surprise me." He smiled, gathering his cards, starting over. "I will even foot the bill."

The statement made her realize that calling his bluff meant nothing. He could still ignore her most burning matter of discussion. That fact left room for other conversation topics at least. She could deal with that. And, even though she miraculously had her wallet jammed into her pocket when she left, she had spent enough money on airfare. He offered to pay, so she might as well sit through whatever torture he had decided on- be it simple silence or awkward subjects- for a free meal.

"Fifteen minutes," she reported after making selections and ordering online.

"Saved the staff from your charms, I see," he commented as she returned her phone to her pocket. He kept stacking cards, subtle smile on his face as he caught her slight pout.

He was making a game out of this. Not playing along, that was about all the control she had over the situation, over him. She wouldn't be breaking first.

* * *

Lan shifted again, restless, but quiet. Such a fidgety girl, he noticed. In the past five minutes, she had changed positions two times, her fingers constantly ripping threads from the bottom of her shirt. Her eyes narrowed at the card tower, looking like she wanted nothing more than to slap it from the table before yelling at him. The longer the silence dragged on, the more irritation and impatience that slipped through her mask. Her aura also began to reflect her deteriorating mood. Yet, she absolutely refused to broach the subject of her rematch.

She had caught on to his game quickly.

A knock on the door signaled the fifteen minutes to be up. She made no move to answer, instead trying to reel in her annoyance before more leaked into her aura. He graciously played the good host while she collected herself. He was honestly surprised she agreed to have dinner with him; he'd been joking, expecting a firm no before she demanded a rematch. It might have been her attempt at civility.

When he opened the door, the delivery boy about fell backwards. Hisoka caught bits and pieces of the teen's rambling, something about having watched one his matches once or something. He didn't really care to listen. Instead he noticed Lan had managed to choose a restaurant in Heaven's Arena. The moment the kid handed over the food without asking for payment, stumbling over the fact that by the 200th floor fighters could get free meals, Lan's aura flickered with so much irritation that she silenced the kid. Hisoka kindly closed the door in his face.

Her eyes shot away, her arms now crossed over her chest. It took a moment for him to realize she was being so petty that him not having to spend money on her annoyed her. Silly thing. The silence must be killing her.

"You seem to be quite popular here," she said as he dropped the food in front of her.

He sat down opposite of her, collecting his cards. "And you are a cheap date."

Lan sighed heavily, rolling her eyes, false calm fading entirely. "Hisoka, the only date I want with you is one where we try to smash each other's faces in. We should talk about that rematch now." Once again, she didn't make it a suggestion. She stood, carefully setting their meal out on the table, pushing half towards him, plastic utensils included. She dropped back into her seat, expectant look on her face.

He grinned, deciding he no longer wished to sit in silence either. He had come up with something sure to incite her wrath rather than just minor irritation. It would be a fun game to play while waiting for his other matches. Assuming she fell for the ploy. He couldn't quite place if she was smart or not. "I suppose I have wasted enough of my time. You'll have your rematch," he said, pausing, making hope shine in her excited eyes, "but on one condition."

Her expression fell to a frown. Lan shifted in her seat again, studying him. "What is it?" Her voice was laced with healthy suspicion.

"Distrustful girl, aren't you?" he hummed. For a liar, she didn't like being lied to. Not that he didn't feel the same way. "The condition is a match in the arena. You will have to reach the 200th floor first, of course, but I expect that will be no problem for you. If you struggle with such an easy task, well, I will find myself _very_ disappointed."

A thoughtful glance to the side proceeded a resigned, "Fine." How eager she had been to fight him. Having to wait even a bit longer irked her.

With that pressing business out of the way, Lan focused on her food. Hisoka glanced at his own, deciding he had more interesting things to do right now.

He leaned forward, elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand. His eyes burned a hole through Lan, his attention unyielding, her eyes anywhere but his as she tried to eat in peace. A grin crept across his face.

Her aura had sharpened with refined control, now a thin layer over her skin. Yet, something else had changed as well. It seemed… weaker? No. Something about the flow had shifted, lessened. A Hatsu ability hidden by In? A quick glance with Gyo revealed no obvious answer. Something not in the room, perhaps?

His smile widened, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. He always enjoyed picking apart Nen abilities, especially during battle. He looked forward to dissecting hers during a proper rematch.

"You've grown stronger," he cheerfully declared.

Lan raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. When he didn't add, she mumbled, "Thanks? I had a decent instructor this time: Morel, the examiner during that exam's first phase, if you remember him."

He briefly tried to recall who she was talking about, only having a vague idea that that _may_ have been one he wanted to fight. The only names he clearly remembered were Lan, Netero, and Sybil. (In fact, he had asked Machi if she'd heard of a _Sybil_ before. She gave him a pointed look that screamed recognition before telling him to consider coming along on a mission once in a while.)

"Should I be honored you even remember me?" Lan asked, now relaxed enough to be making flat jokes. Her humor… Well, he wondered if she knew what humor was, because sarcasm was as close as she got. And even that she struggled to pull off. Beyond her missing some obvious social skills, she was pleasant enough company, he supposed. Inconsequential might be a more apt word for her presence.

"I almost didn't," he lied, smiling. Compared to when he met her, she looked borderline ridiculous. "Is this your version of a disguise?" The way she tensed at his words made him deadpan, " _That's_ your idea of a proper disguise?" He had no idea what she could be hiding from, and he didn't really care, but even he, with his bright and elaborate style, knew how to blend in. Key words being if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

She ignored him, eyes focused on her plate as she poked at her food. He noted she ate incredibly slowly, chewing with precise, measured movements. She trained herself to avoid biting her tongue, he assumed. It gave him something else to talk about since her woeful disguises were apparently too embarrassing for open discussion. Her behavior already spoiled the surprise, though.

"I've been curious about something, fledgling. Is your pain tolerance genetic?" It was one of her more interesting traits. "Or derived from pleasure?" His certainly was.

"I'm not really a masochist."

"What a shame." He sighed, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling with half-hooded eyes. "To think you can't experience the intoxicating nature of pain. It's absolutely orgasmic, especially in battles to the death when-"

Lan broke her façade, face scrunched in disgust. She interrupted him before he could rile himself up further. "Can you not fantasize while I'm trying to eat?" She averted her eyes again, quietly adding, "And you already talked about this over the phone. Once was enough… Trust me."

"You had listened so avidly the first time," he said with a mock pout.

"Didn't want your… kinks distracting me in a fight again," she mumbled back, flustered eyes still not meeting his. He assumed this mortified face was what she wore while talking on the phone with him. She was much more awkward in person, her biting remarks floundering as pathetically as her jokes. She really mustn't get out much. "You fractured my cheekbone, you know."

"You must have been very delicate for a loving tap like that to fracture bone." He seriously didn't remember striking her that hard- although, he had been distracted at the time. He had been trying to show a bit of restraint, understanding that he could have killed her in one hit and wasted all her potential. Just, sometimes, in the heat of battle, he would admit to getting carried away. That might have lead him to damaging her a bit more than intended. "I hope you've improved your defenses since then, or I might kill you out of sheer disappointment." If her defenses stayed so absolutely deplorable he _would_ kill her; no maybe about it.

"Fledgling, have you heard of water divination before?" he asked after a pause, no longer content sitting in silence for any stretch of time. She might as well entertain him if she was going to stick around for a while- odd girl, acting so friendly, but now ignoring him to eat.

Her blank look as she glanced at him showed no obvious recognition to the practice. Or, she felt confused by his sudden mention of it. Then again, she might know what he was eluding to. Her intelligence remained questionable, after all.

"You had little formal training before the Hunter Exam, yet you still could use Nen with a degree of competency. What sort of underground ties do you have?" A rhetorical question, really. Until he gained a reaction from it.

Lan set her fork down, eyes meeting his. Hisoka had seen her emotions range from irritation to repulsion, but this new, sharp expression combined the two into loathing. He accidentally struck a raw nerve.

"With your spoiled attitude and lack of manners, you seem used to having your way. The child of a high-ranking mafia member, perhaps," he continued, grin growing as her aura flickered. He had noticed her tendency to avoid speaking of her past, but hadn't been curious enough to push for details. He still wasn't, honestly. The subject just happened to rile her up, and he found entertainment in her anger. He wanted to know what it took to make her scream. "And so rebellious, too. You must have been a bird kept in a gilded cage."

"I'm not fond of talking about the past." Her voice held finality, eyes narrowed to a glare to drive her point home. So desperate to keep control over the situation, her reaction made him want to prod more. She needed to learn her place. If she did this with someone less merciful than him, well, she would be dead. Her life belonged to him. She should be grateful that he decided to teach her such valuable lessons. "If you must know, though," she continued, tone finding indifference again, "I never took such a silly test to determine my Nen category. I'm obviously a conjurer."

His smile faded, replaced by a frown as he hoped she didn't sincerely believe that. He would be appalled if she wasted her potential over something as ridiculous as not knowing which category she fell into. It couldn't be more obvious. Even if his personality test wasn't one hundred percent accurate, her nature screamed transmuter. Her every other statement was a lie no matter the believability, her interests were eclectic, and her attention fickle. He had also seen her Hatsu; it certainly had telltale transmutation traits.

It took him longer than it should have to realize she had been trying to bait him into arguing with her over her aura type instead of discussing her past.

A grin returned to his lips, amused with her attempt at trickery. "I'm not very interested in the past," he said, dismissing the topic to move onto something more interesting. She wouldn't tell him anything; he could see that. As fun as irritating her was, it could only be entertaining for so long before it became stagnantly boring. "The present and near future are more fascinating, don't you think? There's no potential in the past after all. Memories are rather pointless in that regard."

"True," Lan confirmed in a whisper, finishing the remains of her meal.

She must understand, then. As soon as he lost interest in her, she would be tossed aside like everything else Hisoka tired of. Her continued curiosity in him would prove self-destructive the closer she found herself to him.

He wondered how close she _would_ allow him.

* * *

Lan gathered her trash into a neat pile, unsure what to do beyond that. Hisoka had decided to talk, his food going untouched.

His conversation topics hadn't been painless, but it went better than she thought. It was comforting to know he didn't really care about the past. She didn't like discussing hers, after all. Although, not hearing any of his felt a bit disappointing. He would remain a mystery in that regard.

But, now, it was her turn to pick the subject. He seemed bored of carrying the conversation, she noticed guiltily. Eating had taken most of her concentration, somehow making her a worse conversation partner than usual.

"Hisoka, I was curious about something. You seem like the perfect person to ask, too." She had his immediate attention, a hum showing his interest. She really felt bad now. She didn't mean to bore him to death… It's just since early childhood she had learned to eat carefully and slowly- apparently, she almost bit her tongue off a few times. Hopefully her question would entertain him enough to make up for her distractedness. "Do you know anything about the Phantom Troupe?"

Suddenly, a knowing grin cut across his face. He leaned forward, chin resting in his hand. Amusement infected his expression, yellow eyes glimmering with unhealthy interest. He _definitely_ knew something. "Now, why would you ever be curious about them, little fledgling?" he asked back sweetly, making her feel nervous despite there being no need. Hopefully.

"I'm mainly just curious to know if their reputation is true," she said, fiddling with the hem of her vest. "I've heard that they're very strong, and that they pull off all sorts of interesting crimes." She felt a smile try to slip onto her face with her excitement. These Spiders, they really were fascinating. "I'm also a Blacklist Hunter," she lied. He didn't need to know about her indecision towards a career path. "I was wondering if I stood any chance against them, since the reward on them is huge."

Lan tensed, shrinking back into the chair, as Hisoka abruptly stood. The quiet chuckle behind his silly smirk, he looked like he was about to pull a prank on her. "If you want to meet them so badly," he began, suddenly stripping off his shirt and sending her into a mild hysteria, "they will be in Yorknew by September first." He slowly turned his back towards her, black ink striking on pale skin.

"You…" Words failed her as her jaw dropped. A twelve-legged spider with a four on the body, she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. She stood, leaning over the table to take a closer look, fighting the urge to rudely poke the tattoo to confirm it wasn't some illusion. "You're…" Even as he delighted in her reaction, she continued to stare in a mix of shock and admiration. She knew he was strong, but this was just… "Wow," she mumbled, trying to hide a smile behind her hand. This entire time she had been talking to a member of the Phantom Troupe!? Damn, she already _fought_ a member of the Troupe! And now she definitely knew they were out her league. Hisoka might humor her enough to keep her alive, but she doubted the rest of the Troupe was so accommodating. Nemmi would be happy to know that she understood not to pick a fight with them- although she would still like to admire them all in person, if only once.

"Any other questions, fledgling?" Hisoka turned, Lan's focus on the tattoo as it disappeared from view. Then, he joined her in leaning over the table, his face too close again. Their noses were a fraction from touching. Her vision was limited to his eyes, the gold piercingly fascinating. "Surely this isn't _all_ you wanted from me, Lan."

His tone froze her in place. Their proximity, the way his voice lowered, his eyes, her brain took a brief vacation to fantasy land. One that had her lips parting slightly, inviting her to close the gap between them. Until she remembered the reality of the situation, and that this was Hisoka. He made playing with fire look safe. She couldn't fall for his tricks because she would be the one undoubtedly getting burned. This was a game. _Only_ a game. Anything he said and did should be taken as a joke or a prank.

Lan pulled away, straightening her back to escape the moment. Her eyes darted away from his, her face feeling a touch warm as embarrassment took hold. Another topic. Now.

"Oh," she mumbled, looking back to him. She paused, noticing Hisoka still leaned over the table, expression blank except for a hint of confusion. Did… did she not retreat fast enough? Swallowing thickly, she continued, "One more question. Who was the kid following me? I'm sure you noticed him."

Her question snapped him out of whatever dangerous thoughts he was having over her reaction. He took a step back from the table as well before responding. With the flick of his wrist, a familiar card appeared between his fingers. A Hunter License. She knew he had taken the exam again, but he never did tell her the results.

"Try not to be jealous, but I found some other toys," he said, smile creeping back onto his face. "Care to hear about them?"

Lan nodded happily, wanting attention away from her mistake.

* * *

"There was far more capable candidates compared to the exam we shared," Hisoka said, finished with regaling what he bothered the remember of the exam. Lan listened intently, asking only a few questions- namely if this _Illumi_ had been the assassin he'd mentioned before. She had relaxed immensely, which he found a bit odd considering he had tried to rattle her in many different ways throughout the evening. "The exam itself was more interesting because of it," he continued. "Unless the final phases had proven more entertaining."

Lan scrunched her face at the unsaid question. "It wasn't anything fun like sparring with each other. That Togari's idea of an exam was hunting simple animals," she muttered bitterly while glaring to the side. "I hope he gets mauled by something."

It took a moment for him to connect the vaguely familiar name to an already blurry face. "So that's who that was," he said, mostly to himself as realization struck him. Lan raised a curious eyebrow at him. "I believe I decapitated him."

She laughed. Not a subdued chuckle, but bubbly giggles that were almost innocent sounding. He wasn't used to people laughing when he told them he decapitated someone. This was the first thing he said to make her burst out in laughter, too. Strange girl. She quickly covered her mouth, trying to stifle her morbid glee to regain her indifferent expression, but utterly failed. "Wh-why did he…?" Her voice quaked with withheld laughter. A few more moments, and she might have been in tears.

"Revenge," he said simply, watching as she bit her lip to prevent a second giggling fit. "You find this almost concerningly funny." Don't get him wrong, murder happened to be one his favorite pastimes, but he didn't expect _this_ reaction from her. Did the guy's exam upset her that much? Had he missed something fun?

"Isn't it, though? Funny, I mean." Lan smiled, dropping her hand back to her side, successful in quelling her fit. "He was stupid enough to challenge you again even though he barely survived the first time. You made it quite clear he wasn't worth your attention. He deserved it, too. He wasn't Hunter material."

He had no response, as he agreed with her. The guy had been incredibly foolish, but also disappointingly weak. Another couple of weeks, and Hisoka wouldn't have remembered a single thing about the man. He still wondered what that fourth phase had involved that Lan found such joy in the former examiner's death, but, like her past, she would likely dodge the question if he bothered asking.

Her eyes drifted from him to the night-darkened window in the pause.

"Hisoka," Lan began again, voice leveling to seriousness as she looked to him. "Our rematch, you aren't lying about wanting one, right? You never did promise one, after all."

For a fellow liar, she seemed to hold promises dear. A dangerous trait, placing trust in others after a few well-placed lies and empty words. "No worries, little fledgling," he said with an unconvincing smile. "I have every intention of fighting you again. Would it make you feel better if I solemnly promise a rematch? If I cross my heart?"

"I don't think you have one of those," she mumbled, not finding his teasing as amusing as he did.

"A pinky promise, then?" He held out his hand, offering her his pinky finger. As she stared, unimpressed, he moved closer until his hand was in her face, nail about to poke her cheek.

Her glare faltered as she sighed in exasperation, gently batting his hand away. "Forget I said anything. It's getting late, so…" She began walking to the door.

"You can spend the night with me," he offered, watching as she stopped walking, body tense in anticipation of an inappropriate remark of some sort. That had been his plan, and why not comfort her by letting her believe she had him figured out? The next time he deified expectations, she would be even more shocked than usual; it would be fun. "Until you reach the 100th floor, you won't have a room in the arena. I'm sure we could keep each other entertained between your matches; you look good bent over a table."

"Never." Her words were accompanied by an eyeroll and a strained smile as she tried to ignore the last comment. "I imagine you would keep me awake all night."

He pretended to pout until she turned away.

She took only a few steps before stopping. "Oh, yeah," she whispered, digging around in her pocket. She turned back to him, tossing something at him. Hisoka easily caught it. A pack of bubblegum of all things. Bungee Gum, specifically. "I saw that while I was shopping earlier and remembered you liked it." She shrugged off her own explanation, leaving him to stare questioningly at her _gift_. "See you again soon, Hisoka," she said as she made her escape, not waiting for a response.

When was the last time someone gave him a gift of any sort? He turned the pack of gum around in his hand, having no answer to his own question.

Such an odd girl. Few people would delight in learning his association with the Phantom Troupe, nor admire him for more than just his strength. Beyond seeking his attention and a rematch, she also seemed attracted to him in some manner- yet not enough to jump into bed with him. The somewhat thoughtful gift only added to her bizarre desire to befriend him.

How much of this was an act? Compulsive liars didn't need a reason to lie, but innocently trying to befriend him sounded stranger than trickery to reach some end.

Oh, well, he didn't really care much. She could do whatever she liked as long as it was entertaining. Unless she continued to parade around with a false sense of control over him.

He would repay her for that.


	9. Control: Truths in Lies

Three days. It took three _entire_ days to reach the 200th floor. It might have been tolerable if Lan spent every moment of those three, excruciating days fighting. Even the one-second battles ending with a single kick were better than the excessive waiting. The time between matches tested and about broke her patience; it didn't help how impatient she was to reach the 200th floor to _finally_ have her rematch. That man, he knew exactly how to torture her.

At least she got paid for all the nonsense the arena threw at her.

Lan speed-walked through the familiar hallway, determined to drag Hisoka to the registration desk so they could fight tomorrow. While she could have signed up first and then gone to fetch Hisoka, she didn't want to even risk some sleazy idiot deciding to steal the match- those same three 'greeters' were hovering over the registration desk again. She also didn't trust Hisoka to cooperate. Making her fight her way to the top before fighting him didn't seem quite tortuous enough; he had something else planned.

Her knuckles struck the door with a little more force than intended. The noise rattled still air in an oddly empty hallway. Expecting a long wait, she shifted her weight to her other foot while retrieving her phone from her pocket. She needed something to keep her from literally bouncing with excitement. Knuckle had promised her pictures of the griffon hawk chicks today…

The door whipped open a lot sooner than expected. She looked up from her phone and… _"What the hell, Hisoka!?"_ about flew out of her mouth. Her expression fell into silent mortification _because who the hell answers the door completely naked?_ Her attention snapped to his face when she realized her eyes might have lingered a bit too long on sculpted muscle and… other things. The grin he wore held restrained laughter and amused satisfaction, his eyes glimmering with pure enjoyment at her expense. His hair was down, the usual layer of makeup absent. She might have thought he had just stepped out of the shower if he wasn't completely dry.

Her words caught in her throat again as her brain decided other things held priority. His hair was longer than she thought. He also looked just as good with it down as in its usual style. She'd never seen his face without makeup painted on, his skin just pale instead of weirdly white. And his muscles, damn did he look strong. Attractive: a word she had tried to ban her brain from affixing to Hisoka, but the undeniable truth. He had a sort of charm that Lan unfortunately liked- when he wasn't being impossible, that is.

"My, my, aren't you eager," he commented, taking another shameless step forward. Lan stepped back, expression visibly souring at his idea of a distraction and joke. "We have another six hours before your registration deadline. Or did you come here for some fun in the meantime?"

"Get dressed." She refused to be a part of this. No way would she stand here, eyes afraid to leave his face. "I'm not coming in until you do."

"You won't get your rematch if you stay out there," he countered.

She narrowed her eyes. It was hard to make demands when he had what she wanted, and she had nothing he wanted- that she was willing to give, anyway. "Then I will go find Gon or Killua-" Lan tensed, half-hearted threat hanging unfinished in heavy air. Her legs fought shaking, her skin feeling the pinpricks of malice-laced aura. His threatening, strained smile and narrowed, toxic eyes froze her in place.

"You wouldn't dare," Hisoka said matter-of-factly, this just a warning. Her only warning. They were more valuable than her, then. Hopefully his possessiveness also extended to her in the form of protection, opposed to anything else.

"I lied," she whispered in a lame attempt to diffuse the situation, finally tearing her eyes from his to stare at the floor. Blood rushed through her with her drumming heart, fear and excitement blending into an incomprehensible mess. His aura calming set her pounding heart at ease, clarity returning to her before she did something stupid. She knew better than to provoke him further right now. She wanted a rematch, not immediate death.

"Good girl." His words paired with a light pat on the head made her skin crawl; he sounded like he was talking to an unruly pet or misbehaving child.

Her attention drifted upwards when he sauntered back into the room. Hesitantly, she moved to stand in the doorway while he got dressed. Try as she may to avoid looking at him, his tidy room and lack of personal affects bored her into glancing at him. His Troupe tattoo was in full view. Of her. Of anyone that might pass by the room. Hisoka didn't seem to have a care in the world as he lazily pulled on his pants. And she worried about the tattoos she had… A crow, two foxes, and a chameleon would never be as damning as _the_ spider.

His eyes returned to her far before being what she considered dressed. He refused to find his shirt, either deciding to test her patience with a half-fulfilled request or to let her gawk at him as much as she wanted. Holding up a hand, he beckoned her to enter, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Now, now, how are we supposed to make date plans with you all the way over there?" he teased as she remained in the safety of the doorway.

Lan swallowed down nerves, reluctantly stepping into the room, leaving the door open in case she needed to run from whatever prank he was about to pull.

_SLAM!_

She tensed to keep from leaping skyward like a startled cat. She whipped around to the door, activating Gyo. Nothing. When she glanced over her shoulder, Hisoka's cheeky smile made her frown. With an exaggerated shrug, he held his hands to the side to reveal they were empty. His expression confirmed how _not_ innocent he was in whatever had just happened. It felt like a silent taunt, him using Nen right in front of her and deactivating it before she could see it. She also found it impressive how quickly he acted, irritating her even more.

Lan leaned against the wall, trying to fight the scowl from her face. In less than five minutes, he had scared her twice. That was absolutely pathetic on her part. His aura made her too jumpy; she needed to be completely unbothered by powerful, toxic auras like his. No excitement. No fear. Mental fortitude decided battles as much as physical prowess. Morel drilled that lesson into her head.

"I want our match tomorrow at the earliest time available." Simple and to the point, but she doubted he would listen. No, instead of agreeing he began closing the distance between them with a look that spelled impending doom. For her, of course. She should have just called him to demand her match and then stood outside his door until he complied. Stubborn determination seemed to wear him down into humoring her demands.

The mischievous spark in his eyes didn't disappear as he stopped in front of her. Any hopes of sidestepping him to gain some space were lost as he all but pinned her to the wall. Not by simply planting his hands on either side her, either. Oh, no, she would have preferred that. Instead he was nearly standing on top of her as he pressed his body against hers, her hands smooshed against his bare chest as she tried to keep _any_ minuscule distance between them. A difficult task considering he had pulled her closer by wrapping an arm around her waist. With her desperate attempt to lean away, her cheek almost pressed into his chest- making her curse their height differences for adding to the awkwardness.

"What are you doing?" she asked with the last scrap of calm she had as internal panic took over. Suddenly, she felt hot from embarrassment _and_ his body heat. _Uninvited_ didn't even begin to describe this. He had a few seconds to show what he had planned before she freaked out, used Arri, and ran for it- because if he wasn't riled up already, attacking him would do it. She only had so much tolerance for his creepiness.

"I wonder how far you're willing to take a lie." His mouth lingered by her ear as he leaned down, breath hot against her skin. While his movement afforded her a teensy bit more space, she did not need him breathing down her neck in the most literal sense of the phrase.

"What lie?" Which lie, more accurately. She lightly shoved against his chest, earning only an amused hum.

"That you're not bothered by what I do and say."

Her words caught in her throat when he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes silencing her as her brain scrambled for the correct reaction. The gold burning with hunger and a touch of insanity… He had such gorgeous eyes. Her head clouded over in a haze of excitement, desire, irritation, anticipation-

The moment his lips met hers, everything turned to surprise. Her wide eyes stared into his as his hand found her back, pressing her into him to prevent escape. Shock slipped to annoyance with the chuckle trying to escape his chest.

This was another game.

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her. Did she dare play along? She wanted to. Such a fine line, though. Too much enthusiasm could incite something she wasn't ready to finish. But his lips were fairly convincing as they moved against hers. Then again, this was Hisoka, and definitely a mistake in progress. Yet not reacting meant he won, her pride not too fond of that idea- especially with the satisfied smugness in his eyes as she all but glared at him. Never mind the fact she wanted to do this a few days ago.

Lan snapped her eyes closed, lips moving with his. Within a fraction of a second, his tongue was gliding across hers. He tasted of bubblegum, and she couldn't imagine why. She freed an arm, fingers tracing along his jaw before tangling in his hair. He slammed her head back into the wall, lips moving against hers more fervently. She might have tried to jerk his head away, but the sadomasochistic creep would probably take that as encouragement to continue. Instead, she settled for indulging him. For now.

As much as she wanted to match his enthusiasm, she held back, some rational part of her brain still functioning. If she acted as forceful, things might escalate further than she wanted. Hisoka was the type to keep as a one-night-stand, and even one night might literally kill her. The line between pleasure and pain was very _very_ blurred with him. That might have been okay if she trusted him to not break her somehow, or if she could actually sense pain. Drawing boundaries with him seemed impossible currently. Until she trusted him, she needed to be wary of him.

At least when drunk Lan went partying, she had the decency to _not_ pick up people liable to kill her. She'd admit that Hisoka was certainly more interesting than the people she met during that phase of her life. Also, a better kisser, but being sloppy drunk most times lowered her standards. He stole the title of most attractive man too, drawing her tastes into question again. And her sanity.

Eventually, Hisoka pulled away, Lan about panting from oxygen starved lungs. The smirk on his face made her want to roll her eyes. She let her hand slip from his neck to hang limply at her side. He ignored the cue to drop the hand on her lower back to stop pressing her into him.

"Bastard," she whispered, eyes drifting to the side. Most of her irritation was aimed at herself. This stupid game, either way he won. He had noticed she wanted to kiss him the other night. Instead of brushing it off, he decided to use it to test how far he could push her before she abandoned her lies. He also got a fantastic taste of how attracted she was to him- something that could definitely be used against her. Damn it. All she "won" was the kiss she wanted.

The most embarrassing part was he probably did this on whim.

"My, look how flustered you are," he said cheerfully, a pointed fingernail poking her cheek. He loved her reaction, then. She felt a bit bitter over his amusement at her expense. "Fledgling, was that your first kiss?" His mocking grin remained even as her blank look screamed _hardly_. "I sincerely thought you would hit me for this, but I find myself surprised. Pleasantly so, might I add." His voice dropped lower, eyes narrowing in satisfaction. His tone might have sent a shiver down her spine if she wasn't so annoyed with him; damn attractive voice of his…

She glanced away to escape his captivating eyes, mumbling, "Hitting you would hardly be punishment since you would like it." Finally, his hand left her back, letting her take the tiniest half-step away. Her back pressed into the wall while he refused to move further. "I'll hit you all you want in a fight, though," she added.

"So cruel. I thought we were having a moment." His feigned pout quickly returned to a smirk.

During the pause, she studied him. Instead of finding a motive in the silence, she found a question.

"Out of curiosity, how old are you?"

"Hmm?" He shrugged after a moment of thought. "I seem to have lost track. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight, I believe."

A vague answer with questionable validity, but enough for her to question herself again. "And how old do you think I am?"

"Sixteen, maybe seventeen."

His absolutely dismissive tone almost made her gape in abject horror. He didn't care he just made out with someone he thought was a decade younger than him _and a teenager_. That… that made her uncomfortable, even if she was actually nineteen. Although, that was not much better, really. Hisoka was dangerous regardless of age.

"Of course, that's just what I thought during the exam. You're a few years older than that." She hardly found that comforting, especially as his hand found her chin. He tilted her head back like he needed a better look at her. "Your appearance then left the impression of a child playing dress-up."

Lan's eyes widened as his attention lingered on her right cheek, her hair having fallen to the side. He had figured it out. She knew she should have come here in her Hunter get-up.

"Combined with your makeup," Hisoka continued, tilting her head to the side. His thumb traced over her cheek, nail lightly scraping across the skin now lacking two drawn-on moles. "I would guess that _that_ was the disguise, while this is your actual appearance."

Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt. She didn't want to discuss this. She didn't want him only interested in her because of Fanghe or the Fan Shi or the Paijin.

"I feel almost offended that you think there's something more terrifying than me out there," he complained, his tone almost whiny. She felt relieved. Thankfully, he was self-centered. He really couldn't care less about her past. "Remember, Lan." He jerked her chin to focus her attention on him, and only him. Gold eyes burned with the solemn promise of, "You're mine to kill."

The slightest nod of recognition earned the release of her jaw. He took a step back, finally returning a portion of her personal space. Lan swallowed thickly, caught between fear, acceptance, and contentment. She felt a certain, yet empty, solace in his threat.

"I do wonder why you keep coming back to me knowing that," Hisoka commented as the same thought crossed her mind. "Surely it isn't because you trust me." He raised an eyebrow, grin on his face at the indirect question.

"You're right." She crushed the amusement in his eyes, wearing a slight smile as she added, "I don't trust you at all." A rare truth. Immediately trusting someone like him, she knew it would backfire on her spectacularly. Hence why she didn't want to get too close to him until he proved himself worthy of trust- and that didn't seem likely to happen in the near future, if ever. Friendship was the first test in deciding his trustworthiness. If… if even that didn't happen then… "I'm trusting _my_ assumption that you won't kill me until I reach this supposed peak strength. I-"

Her skin crawled with a sudden pulse of aura. In a fraction of a second, her heart skipped a beat before speeding erratically, drumming in her chest. Everything in her body tensed. Something about the aura felt… wrong. Very wrong. Like a crushing weight on her chest squeezing the air from her lungs. What, or who…? Somewhere above them… The sensation reminded her of Sybil's aura slithering over her skin, but distinctly different _and amplified_.

Another spike in aura made her hands shake in blind panic.

She barely registered the step she took towards Hisoka.

* * *

Hisoka hummed at her reaction. She had cut herself off, her pupils dilating as her body quivered in pure fear. He felt a bit jealous that he hadn't been the cause of such a delightful expression. A second burst of energy sent her stumbling closer to him. She remained silent, eyes glazed over with her focus on the aura and her frenzied thoughts. She didn't even acknowledge the arm he slung around her shoulders, nor him pulling her closer to him. His smile faded. With a flick of his fingers and a bit Bungee Gum, he grabbed the remote from the table across the room. He outright frowned _because her attention was still not on him_. He hadn't even used In this time…

The tv flickered to life, startling her with the blare of a screaming crowd. He muted it before the annoying announcer could resume her chattering; he was a better commentator- and he wanted Lan's attention back on _him_.

"One of the floor masters," he said as the camera zoomed in on the arena. A heavily scarred, muscular blonde woman paraded around the ring, celebrating over the scattered remains of her opponent. Her name was helpfully displayed in the corner: Adalei. "She has some skill." The floor master would make for a decent fight; an enhancer, straight-forward in her attacks, but strong enough, he supposed. She may be drenched in her own blood, but she found enjoyment in toying with her opponents before finishing them. Had Lan not barged in, he might have watched the match with the tiniest amount of interest.

"I see," Lan muttered, finally returning from her daze as the aura dissipated. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt despite her muscles relaxing.

Why the floor master's aura bothered her more than his baffled- and irked- him. Strange girl might have denied trusting him, but she must to some degree. Why else would she ignore how much more dangerous he was when compared to everyone else? Instead, here she stood, seeking his protection at a lesser threat.

He let his hand slide from her shoulder to her waist. The way she froze in place, eyes shooting to his face, showed she hadn't noticed she had retreated into him. Another second passed, her attention divided between the hand on her side, the remote in his other hand, and the smile returning to his face as embarrassment set in across hers.

"I, um…" She struggled to pry his fingers from her waist to pull free of his grasp. He let go, sending her stumbling forward a few steps. Lan whipped around, now in an adorable huff. "Enough playing around. Let's go sign up for our match."

"But we're having so much fun together." He pouted, almost chuckling when she mirrored his expression.

"Hisoka." Flat and firm, her patience had finally snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing as she tried to force her expression from irritation to indifference. She failed miserably.

"Fine, little fledgling." Hisoka tossed the tv remote onto the bed, offering her his hand to lead her to the registration desk like a gentleman. To his surprise, she accepted. Less surprisingly, she snatched his hand in a tight grip, dragging him behind her. Her enthusiasm for this fight-

"Wait." Lan dropped his hand, looking to him with an expression he couldn't quite place. Innocent and soft were words he didn't consider attaching to her, let alone having her direct such a look at him. "What about your Troupe tattoo?"

Concern? For him?

Hisoka just barely kept his smile from turning to bewilderment. Instead, he focused on the reason for her concern.

He honestly forgot he was shirtless still. In fact, he had forgotten as soon as Lan missed the opportunity to learn about Texture Surprise- while they kissed, she had just needed to run a hand over his back to notice fabric instead of skin. He could simply change the cloth's appearance so no one else bothered him about the Troupe tattoo. Lan would have another chance, then, to notice it was fake- that reaction would be hilarious considering how much she seemingly adored it. Yet… Well, she probably wouldn't notice. She was an idiot in regard to how details slipped by her in her overexcitement.

He might as well cover it up. She would learn about Texture Surprise soon enough anyway.

"I'm touched by your kindness, Lan. You're such a great friend," he complimented, insincerity making Lan roll her eyes. He fetched his shirt from the foot of the bed where he had left it hours ago- Lan just happened to have perfect timing and he hadn't bothered getting dressed by then. As soon as he was properly clothed, he walked by her wordlessly. She glared at him as he looked into the mirror, running a hand through his hair to get into place.

"Really, Hisoka?" She mumbled, "You're doing your hair and makeup now?" The grin he gave her sent her digging in her pockets. Quickly, she had her phone in her hand, ready to ignore him ignoring her. _So_ petty.

Although, it did convince him to get it done faster than if she would have let it irritate her more.

His hand landed on her lower back as he passed by her, making her walk with him to the door. Any discomfort she had turned to excitement as they entered the hall, finally on the way to the registration desk. The smile on his face might have given him away if she bothered to look at him.

He could hardly wait.


	10. Pinnacle of Promise: Under the Spotlight

Lan bit her lip to keep from smiling at the boisterous crowd screaming for the match to begin. She slipped her vest off before pulling her sweater over her head, leaving her in a tank-top. "Watch my things, Nemmi," she whispered as she folded her clothes, her phone tucked in the center of the mass.

He squawked, settling onto the pile despite his glare.

"I don't want them to get ruined," she explained when he started chiding her. In her defense, the vest was a one-of-kind find, and her phone was still in impeccable condition. She didn't want to risk ruining them during the match. The sweatshirt, well, she learned fighting under the arena lights made her sweat enough to feel distractingly gross; it reminded her too much of boating in the tropics. "Quiet," she shushed, patting Nemmi on the head. "I won't get cut up by his cards, okay?"

Another round of indignant chirps and squawks made her roll her eyes.

"Nemmi, I know he looked like he was up to something." In fact, while they were signing up, Hisoka had looked positively devious, ridiculous grin plastered to his face the entire time. "But I'll be fine." More than fine, because she had worked hard to get this rematch.

A light above the exit flashed, signaling it was time to make her grand entrance. Lan bounded to the tunnel, trying to hide her stupid grin while walking to the radiant light at the end of the corridor. The screaming got louder and louder, her heart pounding as she tried not to bounce in excitement.

"And in her debut match on the 200th floor, Lan!" the announcer shouted as Lan stepped out into the spotlight, light blinding, noise deafening. As she approached the stage, the announcer continued, "Sporting a zero-loss record and single-hit knockouts on previous floors, she's an impressive newcomer!"

Her feet froze at the edge the stage. Lan's fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms. Her entire body shook as her mood plummeted, aura twisting with bloodlust, anger, fury, disappointment, ire, confusion, absolute rage, sincere dismay because that… _That fucking bastard!_

Across from her stood a hulking man wearing the plainest white t-shirt, his tan cargo pants tucked into black combat boots. The polar opposite of the magician she had expected to see in the ring with her, this guy was the epitome of an insult made flesh. He stared her down before slamming a fist into his open palm, returning her bloodlust with a flash of his Ren.

She ignored him, rage-fueled questions running through her mind. _How did Hisoka even arrange this!? I'd been standing next to him when he signed up! I saw him write his damn name down! What kind of trick…?_

"But will her winning streak end today against crowd favorite Sounz?" the announcer introduced, whipping the crowd into further frenzy. "He has a five-win streak, his last two opponents knocked from the ring and out cold in one hit! With seven wins total, he needs only three more to challenge a floor master! Can-"

She lost interest in the commentator, her eyes searching the crowd, obvious scowl engraved in her face. She found the bastard in the front damn row. Hisoka gave a closed-eyed grin and a single wave when their eyes met. The hole her glare wanted to burn through his stupid skull made him all the more amused.

"Hisoka!" she finally snapped, screaming his name at the top of her lungs over the noise of the crowd. She stalked towards him, Nen surrounding her in a wave of harsh light. He looked positively delighted. "You were supposed-"

An arm blocked her path. "Girly, you're fighting me," Sounz said flatly, the judge standing behind him torn whether to interrupt or not. She probably looked like a rabid animal spitting in anger. Her eyes narrowed at the man before returning to Hisoka. He blew a bubble with his gum as he leaned back to enjoy the spectacle.

"Fine, Hisoka." Lan stepped back, waiting for the judge to start the match. "I'll prove I'm worthy of a match with you."

At her side, she uncurled her fingers. The man shifted, his massive muscles flexing as his aura output increased. He looked like a slow-moving mountain, all defense and offense, no speed to speak of. Did Hisoka choose this guy just to mock her? Seriously, he didn't-

"Begin!" the judge shouted, quickly back-peddling to the edge of the arena.

A fist pummeled into her shoulder, sending her skidding to the side. Her wide eyes snapped back to Sounz, the man already hurdling at her for a second hit. This time she had the sense to dodge, adrenaline kicking in to keep her focus on her opponent. The first blow, she had managed to use Ko, but he hit extraordinarily hard. A missed block could break bone. She couldn't risk using Ko against every strike in case of a follow-up attack.

"Clean hit!" the judge yelled as his reaction time caught up.

Lan grit her teeth, realizing she couldn't get hit at all. Sounz could get a technical knockout if she gave him nine more free points. Stupid arena rules…

Sounz charged her again, a wild amount aura gathering around his fist. Ducking below the punch and scrambling away, the air shifted with a whistle at the speed- strong aura, probably an enhancer. As he whipped around, Lan darted forward, more agile because of her size. Her nails grazed his side, tearing fabric and nothing else.

"Sounz's iron flesh has stopped another potential injury!" the announcer screamed. "But did the judge miss the point!?"

The judge kept quiet, irritating her. At least the crowd booed in agreeance.

An uppercut almost smashed apart her chin, Lan raising an arm just in time to keep her face intact. She flew into the air with the blow. Her arm felt numb, even with Nen protecting her from the brunt of the damage. Not good.

She landed on her feet as the judge shouted, "Critical hit!"

The crowd hissed as Lan yelled, "My arm's still attached, idiot! That was a clean hit if anything!" She just had to get a shitty judge that tried to save the 'underdog' from becoming a paste stain across the arena floor! She didn't look that pathetic, did she?

"What!? It seems the judge is trying to end this match quickly by making some questionable calls!" the announcer added, stating the abundantly obvious.

_I hate this! I hate fighting in the arena! How dare Hisoka bait me into this! How absolutely stupid that I fell for it, too!_

"Quit standing around!" Sounz's thunderous steps broke her thoughts. He reached forward, hand clasping at air as she pulled back, thankful for tight clothing and short hair. His face contorted as he snarled, "I'm getting bored with you!"

He lurched forward, drawing back his arm as aura gathered in a bright red glare. The judge fled the arena floor, the audience quietening with anticipation. Lan jumped back at their combined reactions. Sounz slammed his fist into the ground, tile fracturing, aura bursting with a snap rivaling a bomb. Rubble became Nen-enhanced projectiles slicing through air like a hail of bullets.

Her arms flew in front of her face. Warm and wet, blood dripped down her ribs where a shard slashed across skin. Lan lowered her arms, red oozing down her forearms as tile fragments fell to shattered ground. Ten hadn't been enough to prevent damage from that ability. She felt the ground tremble before he burst free of a growing dust cloud. Around his feet, his aura continued to smash tile to spit up debris and dust, obscuring the ring, the crowd screaming incoherently with the commentator. Sounz abruptly stopped, kicking the ground to send stone bullets directly towards her.

_This guy, he isn't weak._

Lan jumped to the side, rolling a few times before springing to her feet. Sounz pursued, charging at her again, Nen shifting from his feet to his tightened fist. Her legs tensed, knees bending as her center of gravity lowered. He swung to the side as she feinted a roll to the left. Instead she sprung forward, feet shattering tile. Her aura flickered to life, covering her hand to form claws over her nails. Arri bit into his side, shredding fabric and skin, blood seeping from the wound. He retreated a step, leg almost crashing into Lan before her hands met the ground to allow her to flip back onto her feet.

That should have been enough to spill his guts… An enhancer's defenses held up to the equivalent of a sword slicing unprotected flesh, apparently. It would take more than one slash. Or a deeper cut.

That fact made her lips twitch to smile. This guy was actually fun! He didn't fall over after a single strike, and his hits actually posed a real risk of severely injuring her. Even if she didn't restrict Arri to her fingertips, Sounz would be a challenge.

"C-clean hit!" the judge yelled over the crowd and excitable announcer, motioning the point to Lan. He had changed his mind; she would make him see just how wrong he had been about her being weak. A single hit was just the beginning.

"Finally getting serious, girly?" Sounz shouted in glee, grinning as he lunged for her. "I'll punch that smile right off your face!"

He caught her on the edge of the ring, swinging in a flurry. His fists grazed skin as she tried to dodge in tight quarters. Giving up points by jumping outside of the ring, forget that. Lan ducked a jab for her head, his knee slamming into her arm instead of her gut. Her aura shifted, spikes driving into his thigh, wide gashes opening as she pulled away. Sounz's fist collided with her shoulder.

Lan went with the momentum, flying to the side, feet skidding over broken tile until friction stopped her in the center of the ring. Her shoulder cracked as she rolled it back into place. He whipped around to greet her, a limp in his step as his leg oozed blood. A stomp of his foot sent out projectiles, Lan weaving between stone shards, scrapes unnoticed as she met Sounz again. He swung upwards: a mistake. Arri sailed through flesh, biting into bone before he could lower his arm and step back. Searing blood sprayed her face.

She distanced herself, rubbing an arm over her face, smudging the blood she tried to clean off. The judge declared it a critical hit, tying the score. Sounz threatened to take another step forward to continue the bout, pulling back his arm, aura gathering-

Bone-rending bloodlust interrupted.

The judge froze, shaking in place as he fought panic. Sounz glanced over his shoulder while Lan's eyes snapped to the quieted crowd. Gold met brown instantly. Hisoka stood, his aura rife with carnal desire. His expression, marked with a deranged grin and hooded eyes, called for bloodshed. Even as he wordlessly walked away, licking his lips, she understood. He wanted to watch her tear the man apart before ripping into her himself. But the arena wouldn't allow for that, not within the second the match concluded. He had other business here. He couldn't get kicked out now over a frenzied desire to fight her.

She found a twisted sort of pride in that fact.

"You his chick or something, girly?" Sounz asked as he returned to his fighting stance.

She shrugged, honestly answering, "I have no idea." to keep herself from laughing. Chick. Fledgling. Whatever she was, her life had unfortunately been claimed by him.

He scoffed at her answer, red aura gathering around his fist as blood dripped down his arm. "I'm going to crush you either way!"

Lan's smile returned as she prepared to put on a show for her unfortunate fan.

* * *

The match concluded as the man crashed to the ground in blood-loss exhaustion. The camera zoomed in on Lan, her expression confused as the announcer and judge declared she won from a technical knockout instead of her opponent's death; which she had been playing towards, simply forgetting the arena rules as she cheerfully hacked away at the man, her aura restrained from its utmost potential.

"Over much too soon," he said beneath his breath, turning off the tv, losing interest in it as soon as Lan disappeared from the ring.

He definitely would have interrupted if he had stayed.

She was just so… tantalizing. Hisoka fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, grin still fixed in place, pants uncomfortably tight. Oh, he regretted pranking her now- even if it was the correct decision. The smudged blood on her face, the oozing scrapes littering her body, and the wild enjoyment in her eyes… The improvement in her Nen, how much her control had grown, and how her defenses held up against a decent enhancer… And she had such a lovely scream…

"You have no idea how riled up you got me, fledgling." She left him so turned on, but without something to kill the urge. Except Kastro, but that was a painful few days away. Even a slight murder spree might not be enough to quell his excitement. "And you call what I do to you torture." He pouted to himself.

Going through the effort of tricking her, of arranging a match against someone capable of testing her defenses without killing her in a battle induced frenzy … "It will be worth it." He had to keep reminding himself of that.

She deserved her rematch. She had more than proven that during the match. The arena with its cumbersome rules just wasn't the proper place for _their_ match. No, he wanted a battle where she wouldn't restrain herself. "You and I alone, Lan, drenched in each other's blood as we cut each other to ribbons, that's what I crave." A fight without an audience, Lan only his, nothing to distract her from him, that would be perfect.

His phone buzzed obnoxiously with an incoming call.

He wondered how opposed she would be to fooling around with him right now… As much as he wanted to crush her into the ground, pounding her into the bedsheets didn't sound half bad either. Sex might take the edge off… But it might also aggravate the problem because he _really_ wanted to kill something right now. "Prematurely killing you during sex would be a gigantic waste of potential," he muttered, still wanting her squirming underneath him, screaming his name, be it in battle or in bed. Maybe both. No, definitely both.

He grabbed his phone when the vibrating continued, holding it to his ear, "La-" barely leaving his lips as she spoke over him.

"Bastard."

The line went dead immediately after.

Hisoka began laughing, running a hand over his face. Temperamental little thing; she was throwing a tantrum because she didn't get what she wanted.

He wondered if she noticed that he actually helped her in refusing to fight her here. During the exam she had been so adamant about not revealing her Hatsu. In her match, the quick flickering of her aura in restrained bursts, she was still trying to keep it a secret. Her apparent disguises screamed she didn't want to be found. Fighting in front of an audience, the fight broadcast over the internet and television, she had been too distracted in a potential rematch with him to notice her own foolishness. Truly, she should be thankful he had decided not to fight her here.

And asking about the Phantom Troupe, she just further convinced him to _not_ fight her at the arena. _"See you in Yorknew,"_ he texted her in invitation. He had already planned to attend whatever mission was going on in September, curious to see if he could use Kurapika to gain himself a fight with his ever-elusive Chrollo. Her interest in the Spiders, her infatuation with him, dear Lan could probably be used to some end- most likely a warm-up or boredom reliever. What would she do with the Spiders? Or, rather, what would they try to do to her? It would be fun, if nothing else. Her entertainment value remained her best trait, after all.

_"Is that a promise?"_ she sent back a few moments later. He could only imagine the deep-set frown on her face paired with her nails clicking on the screen as she angrily typed. He wanted those nails buried in his skin.

_"I cross my heart, fledgling~"_

Lan… Her company was a bit more than inconsequential. He found her rather… endearing. A rare thing considering his fickle fancies; it really would be a shame when he eventually killed her.

* * *

Lan shoved her phone into her pocket, not believing a word he said. She glanced around her room one last time, remembering to grab her new phone charger so she didn't have to buy yet another for the collection at home. Her wallet almost overflowed with prize money, leaving little room for her hands in her sweatshirt pocket. After walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her, she jammed her hands into her vest pockets to keep from fidgeting- or texting snippy replies to her _friend_.

Hisoka all but told her to leave, that he was done playing with her for now. With no other reason to stay, Lan had decided to leave the arena to go blacklist hunting until the end of August. Even without his invitation to Yorknew, she was already going there. Auntie planned to attend the auction to get her pottery piece. Hisoka be damned… Although, if he sincerely offered a rematch there, she'd gladly accept.

The stunt he pulled had her livid. She wouldn't let him get away with doing it again. The only reason she left was because Sounz had taken up a decent amount of her energy, leaving behind welts and gashes; Hisoka would also probably kill her if she somehow interfered in whatever-it-was he was doing at the arena.

Blacklist hunting sounded quite stress-relieving right now…

The elevator doors opened at the ground floor. Lan sighed at the sight of a massive crowd in the lobby, everyone gathering around something. They were in her way. Unless she tossed people aside and created a scene, she would have to push her way through tightly packed bodies. She just had to tell Nemmi to wait outside… He could have found the easiest path to take- but, then again, the bird was so irate over Hisoka's stunt on her behalf that he kept squawking while clawing into the ground, leaving very noticeable gouges.

What could be so interesting anyways? She shuffled between people, shoving some aside when they didn't quite understand to move.

"Yeah, dude, that's the guy going against Hisoka in a couple of days."

If that name didn't stop her in place, nothing would. She glanced at the two men talking, avid arena fans judging their memorabilia decorated clothes and lack of Nen.

"Kastro, right? The one that's scored the most points against that lunatic?"

Lan managed to catch a glimpse of one of the people at the center of the crowd. Long silvery hair and a flashy, yellow cape, his aura not leaking from him indiscriminately, he was definitely an arena fighter. Did Hisoka choose to fight him over her? More importantly, did she actually feel a bit jealous that Kastro had Hisoka's attention more so than her?

"Who's the other one? The one Kastro's talking to?" One man said, drawing Lan back to their conversation rather than her dilemma. "She's not an arena fighter, right?"

"Some sort of doctor? To a floor master… Adalei, I think."

"I don't know, she looks like she should be fighting here to me."

Now thoroughly distracted, Lan leaned to the side, searching for the supposed doctor. Having no luck, she squeezed by a few people to get to the front.

When she could finally see, her heart hesitated a beat. The snowy-haired woman had her back to her. It was her clothes, with the Anchi flair and the gold- the almost _Paijin_ gold- that made Lan's thoughts race. The woman turned, taking a few steps away from Kastro before he continued talking to keep her there.

Something… something just wasn't right. Every detail jumped out suddenly, familiar yet not. The woman's face, half-covered by a metal mask, her left arm and leg metal-plated prosthesis, were not commonplace enough for uncanny familiarity. The scarring over her neck, like it had been slit and roughly stitched together, it reminded Lan of Fanghe. Her age, mid-thirties at the oldest... This woman… She couldn't be part of the Fan Shi, right?

No. No way. For them to just innocently run into each other by pure coincidence, there was no way that would ever happen. The last Lan was aware, the Fan Shi had been actively searching for her or thought she was dead. She did nothing to lead…

Her face paled, her stomach twisting in a knot.

Heaven's Arena wasn't some private fighting establishment operating behind closed doors. A new rush of panic flowed through her as her stupidity came crashing down on her all at once. Even if this woman wasn't one of the Fan Shi, Lan realized she had fucked up spectacularly.

Lan turned on her heel to push back into the safety of the crowd. People remained bunched together, refusing to part as they gawked at arena celebrities. She had to turn sideways to squeeze between two people.

A hand clasped her wrist.

She had to swallow her racing heart, the firm grip keeping her in the open. Almost shaking, she glanced over her shoulder. Instead of metal on pale skin, she saw silvery hair framing a decently handsome face.

"Young lady, may I have a moment of your time?" Kastro smiled pleasantly, the expression not reflected in his eyes. He kept his hand around her wrist. Shaking him off would draw even more attention. She frantically tried to look behind him for the woman, praying she left.

Lan opened her mouth only to choke on her words.

They met eyes. The woman paused, grey eye scrutinizing her very existence. One second. Two seconds. With the passing of an eternity, she slowly blinked, looking away, her face as emotionless as the metal mask. A flicker of light on the woman's collar caught Lan's breath of relief in her throat. Something so tiny, so deceptively mundane, made Lan stumble back a few steps.

A paperclip. A single paperclip.


	11. Divide: Family and Faction

A single paperclip made Lan's eyes widen in absolute terror.

She stood frozen, watching the woman walk away without even a sideways second glance. Lan stared into the crowd long after she had disappeared, brain racing to logically explain that that couldn't have possibly been one of the Fan Shi. Again and again, the encounter being too random was her only defense. The rest couldn't be brushed away so easily. Not the woman's Paijin gold clothes. Not the vague sense of familiarity. Not the paperclip.

A tug on her arm almost made her jump. "I saw your match earlier," Kastro continued, intent on talking. Even if she desperately wanted to leave, her body stopped functioning. The entirety of her brainpower focused on finding some way to deny the situation beyond sheer coincidence. Kastro may as well have not existed in the same universe as her, his words a jumble until, "I'm curious why you cursed Hisoka when he wasn't your opponent."

Hisoka! He could protect her! Maybe she should go back to his room and… The hope in her eyes died when she realized how easily that would backfire. Who knows what state he was in; she hadn't missed the tightness in his pants when he left earlier- she just didn't want to think about it. She'd be exchanging her worst nightmare for her most foolish fantasy.

She was on her own.

"He tricked me, is all." Lan jerked her arm to the side, finally regaining control of her body. Kastro's grip remained firm. Another pull, the same result. At this rate, she considered using Arri to slice off his fingers just so she could run; the Fan Shi woman might have a revelation and came back. Then again, Hisoka wasn't interested in weak people. She might dig a deeper hole for herself in outright attacking Kastro. "I… I'm in a hurry. Fish for information somewhere else."

He laughed a few times without freeing her. "I apologize if my question came off that way. You're new here, and I like to get to know my fellow combatants."

"Well, I'm leaving, so you really have no reason to talk to me." She jerked her arm again, making the movement almost theatrical to attract the attention of a few more onlookers. The Fan Shi woman had already seen her; she could make a scene now if it meant getting away. The next desperate step would be Nemmi crashing through the front doors in a hail of glass. That always garnered attention.

Kastro's fingers thankfully slipped from her wrist before that became necessary. She didn't wait for his reaction, for more insincere apologizes, or for more attempts to pry information out of her. Her pace bordered on running as she followed the dispersing crowd out. She kept going even when she reached the sidewalk, blindly letting her feet take her anywhere else in the unfamiliar city.

"I… I don't know," she mumbled when Nemmi landed on her shoulder, eyes just as wide as hers. "I…"

Think. She needed to stop fretting and think. Not thinking was what got her here in the first place.

First, she had to tally up her mistakes.

She hadn't used her full name when entering the arena; just Lan. Lanfen was a common enough name in Anchi. _Just_ Lan would make it even more difficult to search for considering other name combinations used it. Were any of the Fan Shi Hunters? She honestly didn't know. They could potentially use the Hunter site, search Lan, and find Lanfen Paijin, but not Lanfen Han. Auntie _should_ be safe, then. They would figure out her disguise, though, because her face was still the same; moles and a little makeup couldn't hide that. Hopefully they would target her Hunter persona. One foray in Heaven's Arena was the only significant thing attributed to her with her current appearance. Still… They might have thought she was dead and she ruined that! Now they would know what she looked like no matter the disguises she wore…

She… she had also used her Hatsu during the match. Even restrained, a recording would be enough to reveal the gist of her abilities. A Nen battle might be determined by more than knowing an ability or not, but it was a hell of an advantage. One she would desperately need because they were trained by Fanghe and had two decades of experience over her. And what did she have? An undeserved Hunter License, a win against an okay fighter at the arena, and the minimal interest of a Phantom Troupe member; that's all.

Lan shuttered, thinking how much worse the situation would be if she _had_ fought Hisoka today. She wouldn't have held back in any regard against him. Everything about Arri would have been recorded and forever posted on the internet.

"What… What do I do now?" She looked to Nemmi, fingers pulling her at her sleeves. He gave a pitiful, unsure chirp. "I… I'm going to have to tell Auntie." If she was certain about one thing, it was that. Her screw up may become Auntie's problem. "She needs to be careful too…" Which she usually was, the older woman more focused on hobbies than gallivanting around, appearing on international broadcasts, unlike _some_ abysmal idiot.

"Right," she mumbled to Nemmi, noticing she had no idea where she had walked in her initial panic. Tall buildings surrounded her, the entrances pristinely clean and neat. High-end apartments, maybe. Only a few people milled about, focused on their own issues. No one was close enough to hear her talking to herself, at least. Nemmi left her shoulder, flying down the sidewalk. She felt a pulse of her aura sent out over the immediate area, Nemmi using En just to confirm no one suspicious followed her. He could keep watch.

Now, what should she do next?

"You're right, Nemmi." She should change back into her Hunter clothes- if she thought two seconds into the future, she would have brought them with her in the first place instead of finding passable replacements. If the Fan Shi had access to the Hunter website, her disguise was already compromised. If not, she could use it to hide. Either way, using herself as bait was the best way she could think to keep them from finding Auntie too.

Lan ducked into an alley. She slid down a brick wall, hiding behind a trash can, finding it an oddly apt place for herself right now. She took a moment to breathe and let her heart settle back into her chest. She might like adrenaline, but too much anxiety tended to ruin the high. Nothing did that better than the Fan Shi.

"I wonder if she really was one of the Fan Shi…" Lan dug her phone from her pocket, staring at the screen for a few seconds. Hesitantly, she entered the only number she had committed to memory.

* * *

Meiling woke to the insistent ringing of her phone. A call in the middle of the night, she already knew who it was. She stiffly dragged herself out of bed, the phone continuing to ring the entire time. Without looking, she held it to her ear, tersely asking, "Lanfen, what is it?" Her niece often forgot that time zones existed, and that most normal people slept at night. The lack of immediate response knocked away some of her grogginess.

"I…" Lanfen paused, setting off alarm bells. The girl rarely hesitated when she initiated the call; no, she demanded things without so much as a greeting. "I, um, want to ask you if someone sounds familiar or not." Her voice sounded timid. Lanfen only sounded timid in emotionally charged situations.

"Are you in some sort of trouble, dear?" The last time she sounded so quiet was recounting the end of the Hunter Exam and how some chameleon's death reminded her of Nemmi's- and the bird's death was nearly a forbidden subject as her Nen helped her live in denial.

She ignored the question, quietly describing, "A woman with white hair, metal prosthe -"

"Leave!" Meiling half-shouted, shaking hand almost dropping the phone. Any tiredness left her, panic instantly replacing it. "Wherever you are, Lanfen, you need to leave right away before-"

"She already saw me." Her heart sank like concrete in a lake. "I left about ten minutes ago, but she hasn't followed. Nemmi's keeping watch for her now."

Meiling deflated, a hand on her forehead. Of all the Fan Shi… How did Lanfen even cross paths with her? "Full situation. Now." The girl was panicked; her decision-making skills were impaired enough to begin with. Meiling also never quite understood how Lanfen's Nen could act as a lookout. Maybe the actual Nemmi, but not her delusions. Nen, Meiling didn't trust it at all.

"I was at Heaven's Arena to see my friend, and he convinced me to participate in a few matches so…" She trailed off as Meiling sighed. The way she acted around that 'friend,' Meiling knew it'd land her in trouble eventually- not that she expected her niece to willingly go onto television. No, she couldn't have _normal_ crushes on _normal_ people. "I know. I wasn't thinking. When I was leaving, that woman was in the lobby, we caught sight of each other, but she walked away without doing anything, and then I left, walked a few blocks away, and called you." Everything came out in a breathless string, notes of fear leaking into her voice. As tough as the girl acted, the Fan Shi terrified her. What happened at the compound, with her father's death and the house burning around her, she never forgot. Libao had made the Fan Shi sound like unstoppable demons; that moment must have solidified that image. "Do you know this one?"

Meiling had the misfortune of meeting three of the Fan Shi. She only met one twice, mainly because she had accompanied Fanghe near constantly. "That was Minji. She might have been Fanghe's prodigy." That girl had a calculating silence to her well beyond her age; all the Fan Shi seemed to, making Meiling question where Fanghe had found them. Of the three she had met, two also had traumatic injuries with lasting effects, Minji's perhaps the worse. Whatever happened to her, she had lost an eye, arm, and leg. "Are you positive she isn't following you?"

"For now," Lanfen mumbled.

She frowned, searching for a reason. They had been looking for Lanfen for that stupid clue Libao was so convinced she had. All of this over some Nen-item... Fanghe was a notorious liar. She probably had it stashed somewhere and decided to trick Libao into thinking Lanfen had something to do with it just to throw him off whatever else she was scheming. Then again, no one quite knew what had happened the night of the massacre. Bai Ze, Paijin, and Fan Shi were slain. "Does she possibly have backup with her?"

Lanfen was silent for a long few moments, her answer obvious without having to say a word. "Some spectators said she was a doctor to one of the top fighters, Adalei, I think. I… I don't know. Her aura did freak me out for some reason, though. Is she one?"

"I don't know." Meiling only knew of one other Fan Shi that had survived the attack; he had been such a nice boy, ignoring the constant profanities flowing out of his mouth. "Watch for a man that has heavy burn scars on the right side of his face. His name is Joan." She wished she had more to offer, but Meiling had distanced herself from the family, sick of the Paijin lifestyle after her husband was shot dead in the streets for something Libao had done. Even when she lived in that blasted compound with them, she didn't pry for information on the Fan Shi, on Fanghe's item. She had been more focused on ailing Jingyi and young Lanfen; if only Libao had paid such attention to his wife and child. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, even if I don't know much."

Talking about the Fan Shi and Fanghe wound her up, conversations ending with her seething because they had destroyed her family, rerouted her life, _and_ cost her a fortune in plastic surgeries she didn't want. They'd taken everything from her, family and identity alike. She didn't want to become an obsessive idiot like her brother in Lanfen's eyes, either. The girl needed some normalcy in her life, even if it meant spinning some lies or avoiding certain subjects at times.

"I… I understand, I guess." Quiet again, but Lanfen's tone took a hint of an understandable edge. Poor girl had been told so many lies. Learning Meiling did the same... It had to hurt. "I just wanted to let you know what happened." Her words stung with the truth. She wouldn't have called unless she was genuinely concerned. If Meiling had told her about the two Fan Shi earlier, this might not have happened. They were both to blame in this.

"What are you planning to do, Lanfen?" Anchi might be crawling with Bai Ze, but if those idiots were good for one thing it was keeping the Fan Shi out of the country. At least the ones that they had information on- and Meiling wasn't sure how many that list included. And when the Fan Shi weren't trying in earnest to cause destruction. All right, it was an illusion of safety, but living in constant fear was no way to live. "Coming home now might not be the best choice, but-"

"I'm going to go do Hunter stuff for a while," she said with crushing finality. "I'll wait and see what happens."

"And you truly thought this through?" Lanfen had her moments of impulsive stupidity, but she sounded certain that this was the best course of action. Meiling still wished she would explain more. Lanfen didn't talk much about what she exactly did as a Hunter… Or anything she did, really. Asking now would only make her more defensive than usual.

"I did."

"Then… Then just please keep me updated. Lanfen, I am very worried about you."

A long pause deadened the air. "I will," Lanfen eventually promised. "Talk to you again soon, Auntie."

The call ended before Meiling could say anything more.

"How many times have I told you to say goodbye properly?" she whispered to herself, returning the phone to the counter. "You're just as stubborn as your father and Fanghe." It was terrifying, sometimes, just how similar those three were. Also, terrifyingly sad. She didn't want to lose Lanfen to this Nen nonsense. Not like the rest of her family.

As she returned to bed, Meiling knew she wouldn't sleep well. The Fan Shi were an ongoing nightmare, but this… This made her worst fears one step closer to becoming reality.

* * *

"Hey, Minji." Adalei's arm moved, the thread slipping from her skin after slicing through it. She made stitches such a chore… No wonder the arena doctors didn't want to treat her. Minji grabbed the blonde's wrist to bring her arm back into place, starting over. "Whoops. Guess I moved again, huh?" Adalei laughed, flexing her muscles just to get on Minji's nerves. The paralytic would be coming out if she didn't stop her childish games. Such a difficult patient…

"I do not have to help you, Adalei. You seem set on breaking yourself." Minji lost count of how many times she had to come to Heaven's Arena to fix Adalei. Her penchant for allowing opponents to cause deep wounds for fun had begun to irritate Minji greatly. "I will not re-suture your wounds if you deliberately ruin my work."

"Yeah, yeah," Adalei grumbled, letting her arm go limp in the most minimal form of cooperation. "I'm paying you, aren't I?" Minji blinked slowly. Most of the money Adalei gave her went towards paying for transportation so she could come to Heaven's Arena every few months to patch her up _again_. "Anyway… Minji, who were you pissed at earlier? Sensed your aura all the way up here. God, it felt like cold knives slicing skin; your aura's so creepy."

Her aura? She hadn't used it to such a degree that it would be felt dozens of floors away. And knives across skin? She had the only metal related Nen in the Fan Shi, but Joan had described the feeling of it completely different from what Adalei had just said. "Like getting slapped in the face with a fucking metal chair during a damn snowstorm," were his exact words, she believed. But people outside the Fan Shi, their Nen simply felt like Nen, no such specificity present.

Certainly, that girl hadn't been...

"Oh," Minji responded flatly, surprise well hidden. "It was just Kastro pestering me about you again."

"Pfft, Kastro. He likes to keep tabs on people. Shame he's probably going to die soon; I wanted to fight him."

The girl when she entered the tower, had that really been Lanfen? Sixteen years had passed since Minji saw the child's face, yet… Lanfen always had looked like Libao first and Jingyi second. She couldn't pretend she didn't see their features in the girl she saw earlier. Perhaps she couldn't just brush it off as a coincidence. Apparently, that 'accident' hadn't killed her.

"You know, since Kastro's fighting that magician guy, Hisoka. He doesn't leave people alive very often. On second thought, I want to fight him more."

Minji finished the last stitch, returning the thread to its proper place- she would need to disinfect the needle following this more pressing matter. She took her phone out while Adalei continued to ramble about which arena combatants she wanted to fight someday. All of them, she would eventually conclude. Like always.

That aura Adalei had sensed, the girl had likely been in a match earlier today. Within a few minutes, she had the supposed highlights of _Sounz vs Lan_ playing on her phone; muted, of course, even if Adalei seemed convinced her attention was still on her chattering. Lanfen was very lucky Adalei was so dense. Had Adalei connected the dots, she would have responded with her usual tact. As in brute strength. _Uncontrolled_ brute strength. Lanfen would have likely been killed, especially considering her haphazard battle with a lesser enhancer. Also, judging the wounds she left on this Sounz, her aura acted as a blade of some kind. The impression of metal made sense.

Without a doubt, then, that girl was Lanfen.

Should she leave to pursue her? No, Minji quickly decided. It would be pointless. Lanfen had evaded capture as a ten-year-old; Minji wouldn't be able to find her now. Not after giving her a thirty-minute head start; her abilities weren't suited for tracking either. If she left now, Adalei would also try to follow her.

"Hello?" Adalei waved a hand in front of her face. "Are you ignoring me again?" Minji glanced at her, sighing when Adalei pouted. She acted the same as she did when they were children. "What are you thinking about?"

"I am wondering why I should treat you if my efforts always seem to be in vain."

"Come on, it's fun here." She threw her arms out, gesturing to the expanse that was a floor master's bedroom. Minji almost felt her hard work unraveling with the movement. "It's not like the Fan Shi do much now-a-days anyway. This is much better than doing the boring mafia work Joan throws at us."

"Hmm." Fanghe would have had them doing the same thing.

Minji's eye returned to her phone to contemplate the much more important matter of Lanfen. She would need to find a way to either track her down or draw her in safely. Reluctant acceptance that she would need a Hunter License made her blink in exasperation. Only one of the Fan Shi had a license…

Hopefully she wasn't too busy chasing after spiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little Heaven's Arena arc! Hisoka isn't ever nice, but making this a worthless trip that exposed Lan to the Fan Shi? Uncalled for. Although not fighting her did help her out a bit. Just a bit. His trick involved using Texture Surprise to change signatures to someone he knew would fight Lan even if they know they didn't sign up for the match. She still dug herself a hole in appearing at the arena and making out with him. With the invitation, we're off to Yorknew!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and reading!


	12. Pursuit of a Promise: Innocent Treachery

September first. Lan was honestly surprised she had lived long enough to see it.

After leaving Heaven's Arena, Lan had spent two months in the remote forests of Kukan'yu. While she technically did help a group of researchers tag various bird species, she had chosen the job to hide from the Fan Shi. During that time, no one materialized to… to do anything to her. In July, she risked a trip home to Anchi. Nothing happened. She spent the rest of her time doing some blacklist hunting, taking jobs that almost asked for attention. _Still_ nothing.

Why did Fanghe's supposed prodigy not whip the Fan Shi into a frenzy to find her? The absolute lack of activity made Lan more paranoid than if she would have had to flee at every turn. Maybe none of them were Hunters… although that shouldn't have deterred them from searching for information. They should have been able to find _some_ useable lead.

She almost wished they had found her already; the waiting in uncertainty killed her.

With the Fan Shi's nonexistent response to the incident, Lan decided to try to resume life as usual- she worried about them finding her before, so nothing had really changed. So, she came to Yorknew as planned. As did Auntie. The woman complained that Lan had skewed priorities, but she refused to sit in Anchi as her precious vase was auctioned off without her. At least _she_ seemed confident the encounter had been pure coincidence...

They had arrived a few days ago, leaving Lan plenty of time to grow bored. The excitement of sleepless cities covered in a constant layer of smog and filled with ceaseless noise had long since passed. Lan had enough of that in Kou-Ang.

Her boredom wasn't helped by a certain magician ignoring her texts.

Hence why she chose to wander through Yorknew's largest park this fine morning. A park was about the only place to see animals in the city- barring common pets, rats, and pigeons. Although, zoos were an exception. She _had_ considered going to do a welfare check on the zoo animals, but…

A squawk punctuated her thoughts. Closing down a Yorknew zoo would attract way too much attention; Nemmi had reminded her to keep a low profile. Even if the Fan Shi had ignored her, Yorknew was currently crawling with mafia from around the world, Anchi included. Although sparingly, their quarrels with the other groups distancing them, isolating them. The usual politics, really. The few Bai Ze would be too busy throwing their money around to notice ghosts, unless Lan caused another arena disaster to shift attention to her. That would cause Auntie more needless danger. She would be fine attending the auction if Lan behaved, Auntie's aged face also altered with a number of plastic surgeries- the only Paijin thing Auntie regretted getting rid of was their features, even if it did make it easier to hide in plain sight. One of Auntie's long-time friends had arranged for them to attend, like usual; another older lady, her husband long dead and his former empire hers through another series of mafia political moves and scandals Lan really couldn't be bothered with. (All she cared about was that the woman wore awful perfume and disgusting fur coats, Auntie hating it whenever she pointed it out- almost as much as she disliked Lan making mock hit-lists out of bidders buying animal parts during auctions.)

Nemmi shuffled on her shoulder, eyes continuing to dart around for something to occupy them for the rest of the day. They'd be in the marketplace soon if they didn't find something better to do… Lan didn't want to shop for pointless trinkets.

"What is it?" she whispered as Nemmi grabbed a lock of her hair, pulling at it. One wrong move and the chunk would be snipped by his beak. Again. Her hair was always uneven from him doing this. He let go to chirp at her, head snapping to the side to point. Her pace dragged as she stared across to another pathway. Two kids walked by, the white-haired one familiar. The boy from the arena. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye like he was also just placing where he knew her from. Her approach sent him on the defensive, the boy in green next to him taking a few extra steps before noticing a change in atmosphere. Nemmi left her shoulder as she neared them.

"You followed me back in Heaven's Arena," she said once she stood in front of them. White-hair bristled at the comment; he didn't know she had seen him, then. Or, more specifically, that Nemmi had pointed him out to her. He must not have noticed Nemmi.

"And you're Hisoka's friend." While subtle, his tone sounded accusing. The other boy opened his mouth to ask a question, but the white-haired boy spoke over him. "Does that mean he's around too?" That time, his suspicion was apparent. She wondered how Hisoka acted around them; hopefully better than he did when around her. Twelve-year-old Lan would have no idea how to deal with that man's bizarre behavior. Nineteen-year-old Lan could barely handle him.

"I'm not sure." Her brow twitched at admitting it aloud. If that bastard had lied about coming to Yorknew… "Who's Killua and who's Gon?" She looked between them, still unsure. Hisoka had just droned on about their potential, no useful traits for identifying them shared. Boredom and curiosity made her want to keep talking to the two until she thought of something more entertaining to do.

The white-haired boy stared at her, refusing to answer the question. His eyes were analytical and calm rather than panicked, mental chess played in his thoughts.

"Hey, Killua, do you two know each other?" The look _Killua_ aimed at _Gon_ for spouting out the answer was priceless. "Did I miss something important?" Gon asked innocently.

Killua gave into Gon's pleading expression, explaining, "I saw her at Heaven's Arena. She went into Hisoka's room, so they're either friends, or…" He trailed off, face managing to pale further despite his already white skin. Whatever disturbing thought that had crossed his mind, his scrunched face showed absolute repulsion with it. "Or they're together."

"Oh, that's good." Lan almost laughed, Gon's response throwing Killua for a loop. They were like a comedy duo; an entertaining one at that. They… they seemed like good friends. "I'd feel bad if I forgot that I'd met her before."

A flicker of her aura sent the two on the defensive. Even as she played with her Ren, increasing it, the boys stood firm. Impressive. At their age, she would have retreated a short distance, if not run, in a direct confrontation like this. She shrugged as she let aura fade to normal. In a poor form of reassurance, she took a step back from them, burying her hands in her pockets. They relaxed, if only a little.

"Hisoka seems to like you two, and I guess I can see why." Her words elicited no verbal response. Instead Killua gave an exasperated look that said 'unfortunately' while Gon didn't seem phased. Hisoka's behavior mustn't bother him much, then. It was a good thing Killua had the sense to be wary enough for the both of them. "Want to fight me?" A short sparring match would prove more than a little flaring of aura. She would have to be careful not to break them, though, because Hisoka would definitely kill her for it. She remembered her place in his priorities…

"Why would we do that?"

"Come on, Gon." Killua began walking away in attempt to corral his friend's attention. "She's probably just creepy like Hisoka."

"But we still haven't introduced ourselves!"

"Lan." She would humor Gon, his genuine enthusiasm… A bit odd, honestly.

"My name's Gon Freecss!" he replied cheerfully before looking to Killua, waiting for him to give a proper introduction. He didn't. Freecss… That sounded familiar. "And this is my best friend Killua Z-"

"Freecss!" Lan said a bit louder than intended, eyes lighting up as she finally remembered. "As in related to Ging Freecss?"

"That's my dad!" Gon's eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, hands balled into tight fists. "Do you know him?"

"Never met him." He immediately deflated at her bluntness. She felt her own excitement bubbling to the surface. "I've heard he's tamed some of the rarest creatures in the world, ones I could only dream of seeing!"

"Really?" Gon asked, eyes shining with renewed excitement. "What kind of animals?"

A list flew out of her mouth before she could control herself. Killua had a blank look on his face as Lan talked animatedly. Gon listened intently until Lan said, "And I heard he was central to preserving foxbears!"

"Really!? I raised a foxbear cub after-"

"You're from Whale Island, then? Are their numbers improving?"

"Hey, lady. Your phone's ringing," Killua interrupted, pointing at her pocket as if she forgot where she kept her phone. It was, in fact, buzzing nonstop with an incoming call. "And Gon, we should get going. We need to find Leorio and Kurapika."

Lan dug her phone out of her pocket. The card suits on the screen made her heart leap to her throat as her fingers fumbled to answer. She said nothing as she held it to her ear.

"Come find me, fledgling."

Anything she might have said in response caught in her mouth as his voice echoed in her brain. While eternally teasing and bordering seductive, his tone held an amount of seriousness as he issued her the challenge. This… This didn't sound like a joke. Her bloodlust skyrocketed with her anger. If this was another joke, she swore she'd find some way to make him pay.

"She's definitely friends with Hisoka," Killua said under his breath.

"We need to go now, Lan," Gon said cheerfully, seemingly unaffected by her excitable reaction. That kid, he definitely wasn't human. "Bye!"

"Yeah, bye," she mumbled, staring at her phone. How big was Yorknew, again? Maybe that was the joke; she would spend days searching when he had never been in the city to begin with.

Her phone buzzed with another message. A single photo this time. She studied the dilapidated, certainly condemned, building nearing the status of rubble. It appeared to be several stories tall; not something easily missed. More crumbling buildings sat on either side of it, the picture taken from across the street, either in the adjacent building's middle-level floors or on a low roof. An abandoned part of town, maybe?

Nemmi landed on her shoulder, craning his neck to take a look at the picture. Once she was sure he had it memorized, she searched the internet for a map of Yorknew. There _was_ a large area on the edge town filled with old, abandoned buildings. It would take an hour or so to locate the specific cluster. The windows in the picture seemed one of a kind, helping her cause. Hisoka wanted to meet there? Actually, if he wanted to finally provide her a rematch, the area would be perfect. Only criminals would loiter around an area like that; they wouldn't try to interrupt a match if they were half-way intelligent. It was much better than the arena, that's for sure.

"We'll take a train to get closer," she whispered to Nemmi, her pace already quickening with her new mission driving her. "Then I'll have you look for that building and Hisoka." If she had one skill, it was tracking, Nemmi specialized for the task.

* * *

Nemmi circled overhead as Lan trekked through an alleyway. Her heartbeat drummed in her chest as she saw the same tall windows and building faces from the picture. A few moments more, and she would have Hisoka in her sights. Hopefully. She had seen a run-down amusement park a dozen blocks ago. That seemed like a more fitting place to bump into Hisoka than a boring shell of a building with pretty, church-like windows.

She quietly stalked around the outside of the building, looking for a way in. Hisoka didn't magically appear to greet her when she found the front entrance. She chewed on her lip a moment, apprehensive to enter the crumbling building, unsure what Hisoka had planned for her this time. The possibility of a rematch had her swallowing down her nerves. He wouldn't trick her twice, right? That'd be predictable. Of course, they hadn't seen each other since the arena. Their phone conversations were few and far in between over the last few months due to poor reception in a forest and her general irritation with him. He might be _dying_ to play with her in retribution for ignoring him, her reactions somehow endlessly amusing to him.

Lan cautiously stepped from the shadow of the adjacent building, crossing through the late morning sun to the entryway of what had perhaps once been an opulent hotel. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness inside, the blown-out windows not enough to light the space. The dreary, ominous atmosphere held stark contrast to the lively park from earlier. It almost felt foreboding, like nightmares might make their home here. The change had her reconsidering her decision of having Nemmi wait outside, but indoor spaces were too confining for him should a fight erupt… She would rather not have him forcibly dispersed unless absolutely necessary.

Kicking stray rubble broke absolute silence. Lan paused, as if waiting for the deep shadows to leap out and grab her. Maybe that's why he chose the place: it was like a giant haunted house, even in the daytime.

 _Hisoka better be here..._ She continued down the hall, guessing the room on the other side of the windows was her destination. _If he made me come here for no reason, I swear…_

The door creaked as she swung it open.

More than one set of eyes shot to her in hostile greeting. Time stopped. Several auras churned around her. Nearest the door, two forms moved. Her brain screamed _run_ as her body sluggishly reacted, taken off guard. One figure flew towards her in a blur. Too fast, even without panic rooting her in place.

Her feet left the ground with a sudden jerk to her body. In a blink, she slammed into something warm and rather firm. A person, she realized. Someone that smelled suspiciously like a certain brand of gum. She lifted her head from the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her to keep her in his lap. She might have complained if he hadn't saved her and now prevented her from falling from the high windowsill to the floor. How _did_ she get up here? His ability again?

"Hello, fledgling," Hisoka greeted, drawing her attention to his face. He looked abysmally happy with himself, even with the annoyed auras surrounding them dropping the temperature a few degrees.

Her eyes widened with horrid realization. How… how did she forget about the Phantom Troupe's entire existence?

"Oi, Hisoka!" a voice shouted from below. Lan struggled to shift positions, Hisoka grinning the whole time. She caught the speaker as he poignantly added, "Who the hell is that?" Blond hair combed back, wearing a green tracksuit, he had been by the door, ready to grab her. For a guy without eyebrows, he managed to look incredibly angry.

"Doesn't matter," another person added, voice a raspy hiss as he stepped away from the door. The vague statement became threatening with the way his dead eyes gained a flicker of excitement. Black hair, his mouth obscured by a skull crested bandana over a dark cloak, he had been aiming to kill her before Hisoka had stolen her away. A fraction of a moment later, and he would have succeeded. Impressively terrifying.

Hisoka pulled her against his chest, his mouth next to her ear. "Why not introduce yourself? You had seemed so excited to meet them." She could almost hear the wicked smirk in his whisper.

Her eyes wandered to two equally agitated men as they abandoned their card game, glares aimed at the window. The mountainous man with wild hair and the scraggly samurai were not pleased with the situation either.

"I…" Her voice was barely audible. No way she could talk her way out of this alone. Not with eight other Spiders in the room that she hadn't even dared to look at yet. Meeting them under these circumstances, the entire group gathered in one room, varying degrees of annoyed at her intruding on their space... She _never_ wanted this, because this was positively suicidal.

"Do you want my help?" Hisoka asked as her fingers pulled at her sleeves. His tone implied _but it will come at a price_. He _helped_ her into this situation to being with… Still, her voice failed, her eyes fixed on the angriest Spiders in a mix of curious terror.

"Hisoka," the larger man boomed, his regular speaking voice making Lan fear for her eardrums should he begin shouting. His muscles bulged as he formed a fist, lips pulled back to bare teeth. "You can't give out our location to whoever you'd like. Not unless you want us to crush 'em."

"How about take care of both?" the short black-haired guy suggested, dark eyes narrowing, pleased with his own idea.

"I agree," the blond man quickly answered, rolling his shoulder as he walked a few steps closer.

The samurai let out an odd whistling-laugh as his hand found the hilt of his sword. The giant's muscles tensed as a snarling grin broke on his face. She should have known. They didn't particularly like Hisoka, and any reason was a good enough reason to fight him.

Lan elbowed Hisoka in the ribs.

"Now, now~ There's no fighting between members, remember?" Hisoka's sugar-coated words simultaneously ceased their advance, while irritating them more. That apparent rule must be the only thing preventing the other members from throwing Hisoka out. The same, unfortunately, did not apply to her. The second Hisoka shoved her off his lap, she would be in further peril. "This is Lan," he introduced, tone making her heart pound in anticipation. "She's a harmless Blacklist Hunter."

She jerked her head around to glare at him, indifference be damned. He grinned like he hadn't just made her situation a thousand times worse. Even if she had lied about her occupation, he had no reason to share that right now. At least not a valid reason. He clearly said it to rile the Spiders and her up for his own damn amusement. It worked, too.

"A Blacklist Hunter, huh?" a new voice chimed in. Another blond, this one with a boyish face. He continued playing with his phone, now half-interested in what was being discussed. "I wonder if she's after the bounties on us."

"Mustn't be very smart, then." Her attention fell on another large man, his skin decorated in scars, his stretched earlobes nearing his shoulders. His expression was rather passive. "Coming here alone is a death wish."

"He probably didn't tell her that we were here," a vibrantly-pink-haired woman commented offhandedly, not glancing up from whatever she was sewing.

"None of that matters," blond man grumbled, shoving a hand into his tracksuit pocket to grab a cigarette before lighting it. After blowing out a puff of smoke, he added, "He told her our location."

"Eh, leave her to Feitan." The bulky man waved a hand dismissively, the candles flickering, threatening to send the room into near darkness. She felt the breeze all the way in the window; even _air_ seemed to yield to his physical strength. "She doesn't look like any fun." The samurai reluctantly shrugged after agreeing she wasn't worth the effort, following the other man back to their card game. Somehow, losing their attention gave her a sense of impending doom.

The guy in the cloak had glanced up at the name. "Yes, Phinks, I take care of her," Feitan happily agreed, his raspy voice ensuring misery of some variety. Lan would rather not find out the specifics. The blond man, Phinks, took another drag of his cigarette. He looked peeved, but not with Feitan. His eyebrow-less scowl remained on Hisoka.

"Little fledgling," Hisoka began, redirecting her eyes back to him. His smile, the way his eyes glinted in flickering candle light, he was ensuring her ordeal wasn't over quite yet. He spoke above a whisper, seeking his audience's attention before he lost their interest entirely. "I do wonder how you found this place. I never told you where it was, after all."

Any fear she had suddenly disappeared as anger overtook it. Her aura stirred with ire as she tried to pull free of his grasp. No matter how hard she struggled, like a magnet, she was pulled back to him. Nen flooded her eyes to see bubblegum-pink aura clinging to her. Any move she made, his aura snapped her back into place like elastic. His Nen, she _hated_ it. Trying to slash through it with hers would likely prove counterproductive. As her irritation rose, she felt a dozen sets of eyes returning to her.

"You _did_ tell me, Hisoka," she hissed, dignity lost. If he intended to throw her to the sharks, she'd pull him into the water with her, because this was more than some harmless prank. It was playing with her life.

"I told you he had a part in this!" Phinks snarled, stomping his cigarette into the ground as he took a step forward.

"I only sent an innocent picture of the building," Hisoka said, suddenly defending himself. "I never expected you to find it." He wanted to know how she had found him so soon, this his infuriating way of asking. Like hell she would tell him when he managed to sign her death warrant with the Spiders.

"You told me to come find you!"

"Hisoka's probably lying," a girl with glasses said, looking upwards in thought as she added, "but she might be too since they're associates."

"That would make us…" The man with a scarred face paused in realization of what he was about to say. "Good point, Shizuku."

"I can get truth," Feitan chimed in _again_ , growing a bit impatient now. Worse, no one seemed to disagree with him.

The edge of card nicked her neck. A hot trickle of blood seared cold skin. Lan froze, leaning into Hisoka's chest to lessen the pressure, even if he was the cause. "If you are so upset, I will kill her myself." His words were somewhere between comforting and terrifying. Either the Spiders agreed to spare her from whatever Feitan had planned and sentenced her to death at Hisoka's hands, or a physical fight might break out over killing rights.

"I can check." A woman with dirty blond hair uncrossed her legs as if threatening to stand, her classy skirt suit setting her apart from the more eccentric members of the Troupe- like the mummy and mop Lan just noticed below her. "You're bothering Danchou with all the noise."

All eyes gravitated to a high pile of rubble on the other side of the room. Staring back at them, the void itself. _Himself._ Lan's anger ebbed, replaced with curiosity, realization, wonder, admiration, unease, a cacophony of conflict. The leader of the Phantom Troupe sat with a book abandoned in his hand, steely eyes focused on her in an unreadable, unfathomable expression. Slicked back black hair, cross tattoo at the center of his forehead, dark coat with a fur-lined collar over his bare chest: an aesthetic dream with the title of nightmares. She could drool over his appearance and reputation forever, the man another predator in human skin. His calculating gaze held her captive, stopping her heart in her throat, her aura between lust and terror.

Hisoka's voice lowered to whisper in her ear as he asked, "Do you like what you see?"

Her feet hit the floor with an echoing _thud_ , breaking her daze, freeing her from empty eyes. Soon after shoving her off, Hisoka landed beside her, his arm draping over her shoulders to urge her to walk with him. She followed without thought, focused on reigning in her aura and mind.

"I am going to talk with my darling friend," Hisoka stated as he paused in front of their leader. His eyes had since returned to his book, most of the Troupe members losing interest in the matter. Feitan and Phinks seemed the most irked by the lack of execution orders. "You don't mind, I hope."

"Go ahead," _he_ said, his voice as gorgeous as his face, tone calm and passive despite the tiniest quirk of a smile on his lips. Lan mentally sighed in relief, quickly realizing he had offered her a momentary reprieve. Maybe she wasn't threatening; a blow to her pride, but it might save her life this time. _Leaving_ might be another matter, though. Their reaction, his stare, she wouldn't walk away unscathed. "Just do not share the base's location again, Hisoka."

"Of course."

Despite the insincere smile on Hisoka's face, the hollowness in his affirmation to behave, the Spiders did not move to stop him as he escorted Lan towards the door. She took what was hopefully a last glance at the Phantom Troupe, at their leader. As much as she wanted to know more, to see them in battle, to experience what it felt like to face such unbelievably skilled individuals, she knew that she stood little chance against any of them, let alone the entire group. Escaping the building alive became her priority, not contemplating the Phantom Troupe, the cold burning stare of its leader, the way adrenaline filled her veins in their presence, under his gaze.

Leaving the room of intense auras and heated glares hardly settled her racing mind. Hisoka wordlessly directed her through a few dark corridors to the opposite side of the building, and up two flights of stairs. After entering an empty, furniture-less room, Lan distanced herself, the daylight seeping in from an intact window drawing her to it like a beacon in the night. She tapped her fingers on the windowsill, fighting conflicting expressions into indifference. She needed a plan, some way to escape with her life, Hisoka her only possible help…

The solemn click of the door trapped her in the room.

* * *

Hisoka leaned against the door briefly, watching as Lan fidgeted, her nails monotonously striking wood. Her reaction to the Troupe had been… rather mundane, honestly. Fear and anger had overtaken morbid curiosity as her life hung in the balance. The Troupe's reaction had been rather predictable as well. Hostile in their boredom as they awaited the auction later tonight, they had only found mild entertainment and taken minor offence in his slight betrayal.

The entire interaction may have become boring if not for one exception: Chrollo. Hisoka had stared at the man enough hours to understand some of his subtler behaviors. Unless the world was coming to an end, in instances where the Spiders were about to tear into each other with irrevocable damage, a coin-toss no longer able to resolve the conflict, Chrollo showed no outward interest. He would read, unbothered by their petty squabbles, eyes never glancing away from the pages even as he gave orders to desist. Chrollo only abandoned his books when he found something adequately interesting. Like treasures to steal, poignant remarks from the Troupe, occasionally the nature of humanity, and other miscellaneous oddities.

Lan happened to be one of those oddities, it seemed.

"He's quite spectacular, isn't he?" Hisoka's voice drew Lan's attention from the window. She turned to face him, fingers then shredding the hem of her shirt with her excess energy, as he closed the distance between them to a mere step. Infectious excitement still tinged her aura.

"Yeah," she said, sparkling eyes wide as if reliving the moment again. Her reaction to Chrollo's gaze, the way she looked at him, how her aura spun with conflict, it irritated Hisoka to a degree. Those love-struck, murderous eyes were his alone. "What's his name?" she asked too eagerly.

"Chrollo Lucilfer." Hisoka reached out as she considered the name. To his surprise, she didn't shrink away, only a slight flicker of surprise in her eyes as his fingers brushed down her cheek before tilting her chin upwards, exposing her neck. Where his card had sliced, a thin line of blood stained her skin. "So strong…" He muttered, leaning down, lips pressed against the nick only briefly before he traced the line with his tongue. The coppery taste of dry blood coaxed a moan out of him; he wanted to cut her up until he could taste her blood in the air. He wouldn't put off their rematch again.

Lan sighed in either acceptance or pleasure. "He is, isn't he?" She sucked in a breath as he bit down, a hand finding the back of his head, fingers roughly threading into his hair. "Has to be to lead such a powerful group. Amazing and terrifying in the same moment…"

He sunk his teeth into her flesh again, pressure sure to leave behind marks. Her grip on his hair tightened, 'bastard' slipping out of her lips as she realized she would be left with a lovebite. A downside to her lack of pain; she wouldn't scream out in it no matter what he did, pleasurable or not. "The thought of fighting him turns me on," he said against her skin, glee leaking into his voice because he _really_ wanted Chrollo. Years of waiting, stalking, searching for an opening to take what he wanted, to think that he was now so close to achieving his goal.

"Yeah."

His lips crashed into hers, his hands finding her hips to pull her flush against his body. She didn't back down, the timidity she had at the arena suddenly lost. Her teeth bit into his lower lip, fingers pulling his hair as she pressed herself into him. Another moan slipped out when he tasted blood, her tongue then gliding over his, her nails digging into his scalp. So bold today… How far would she be willing to take this? Because what she was doing, if it escalated, grew rougher and more intense, he wouldn't be as forgiving as he had been at the arena. He wouldn't let her leave. A price had to be paid for teasing him, getting him all tingly with excitement.

"I crave a battle to the death," he mumbled, only half-aware he was talking as his hands roamed her back. He wished she wore tighter clothes so he had more to feel than fabric. And now his clothes seemed too tight, collar choking and hot. "To see the look of defeat on his face as he's about to die, as all his plans fail." His hand slipped from the small of her back, lower, a rough grab earning him scratches down the nape of his neck. The wild look of irritation and anticipation in her eyes… "I want to crush his skull into the ground until those eyes burst."

"His eyes _are_ gorgeous…"

He paused, grin faltering as his amusement faded.

"He's mine," his voice lowered, nails digging into her back, a possessive warning not to even accidentally interfere with what he was working towards. She knew his intentions with Chrollo and that could be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands- like Pakunoda's. How did he let her become a liability…? Lan's eyes widened with his burning gaze, rational fear and confusion reflected. Just as quickly, his tone shifted back to half-serious teasing. "I hope you weren't having any impure thoughts about him, fledgling."

"Huh?" was her eloquent response as she struggled to find where that flash of irritation had stemmed from. "Not any more than I had when I met you." Had she complimented his appearance then? He didn't recall much beyond the wanting expression on her face and the twisting bloodlust in her aura; the same reaction she had towards Chrollo. The fact remained she was his toy, and he didn't particularly like to share- even if dear Chrollo, the pinnacle of perfected fruit and his number one target for two years, was the person trying to borrow her. "Any reason you can't seem to keep your hands off me today?"

The subject change… His eyes narrowed. She had been doing this on purpose. Giving into him, playing along so willingly and avidly, it had been a distraction, a lie. She was stalling while trying to think of how to convince him to help her escape, the Spiders certainly not done with her. Such a clumsy attempt at manipulating him- never mind her few moments of success. Not subtle enough with her words to steer the conversation, she hoped he would bring it up or provide some useful information before she grew too uncomfortable with the act. His irritation had made her panic enough to slip up. Her reaction and his realization effectively slaughtered the mood.

"Aren't you simply adorable, fledgling." He smiled. While ineffective, she was getting better at using him. With more practice, she could manipulate people and situations to her liking just as he did. The havoc they could wreck together… With a shove, Lan flew into the wall, her back cracking the window as she hit. Her façade broke, brows pushed together in a tight frown, her lips pressed into a thin line. Oh, she was absolutely livid with him- he was wondering where all that delightful anger had disappeared to. "Now, now." He stepped forward, jerking her chin to keep her glare focused on his eyes. The wrath and loathing, oh, this was another of his favorite expressions. "What's on your mind? No lies this time, darling."

"Hisoka," she said with barely restrained anger, "are you going to let them kill me?"

"Hmm…" His hand slipped from her chin, fingers ghosting along her throat. She tensed at his touch, no longer hiding her discomfort under the threat of being choked. His grin returned as he considered teaching her an early lesson about messing with him. "That honor is mine alone, Lan."

"Then are you…" Her words trailed off as his nails scrapped her collarbone, _'going to kill me before they have a chance?'_ hanging unfinished in the air. With torturous slowness, he flattened his hand, palm resting between her breasts, her heart pounding.

"He looked interested in you."

"I…" She faltered as his hand brushed over her breast before continuing down the side of her body, feeling over what curves she had. Fabric was still in the way… "I don't know why he would be," she answered through her discomfort. Still, she didn't swat him away, playing along. Her lips parted, likely to get back to the subject of her life, but he interrupted.

"Oh?" He leaned forward, wicked grin on his face as his hand rested on her hip, thumb under the hem of her shirt. Chrollo had a reason to be interested, and to have his attention, there was no way she was completely unaware. "Are you sure?" No answer equated to a lie deserving punishment. "Naughty girl, I can tell you're lying."

His hand slid under fabric, over burning skin and tense muscle, to her rib cage, to- Her hand caught his wrist, nails digging in at a boundary crossed. A heel struck his gut, his left hand catching her ankle before she could retreat. As he moved to throw her into the opposite wall, her aura flared with blue light, slicing flesh, drawing blood. Hisoka released her with a thrilled laugh, holding his bloodied hands in front of him in glee. Red dripped down his right arm from fresh cuts to his wrist, fingers of his left hand almost mangled beyond use. Without using his Nen for protection, she left quite the painful, delightful mark. And using her aura in two separate areas in such quick succession, her control had improved more than he had initially thought. He definitely would be fighting her in Yorknew before or after he had his way with Chrollo.

"Listen," she almost hissed while pulling her shirt back into place, "the stunt you pulled with the Spiders is liable to get me killed. I'm not about to let you do as you please without you first getting me out of this mess."

"If I _do_ cooperate, you'd let me 'do as I please?'" Her accepting silence conflicted with the way she bit her lip while glancing away. She would, albeit reluctantly. He could work with that, although he still preferred fighting. Unless the two were combined, because he'd given it some thought, and _that_ would be Hisoka's idea of perfect. "You want me to promise my help?"

"Your promises are worthless." Her narrowed eyes, the sharp edge in her voice, she meant it. She didn't trust him after what he had done at Heaven's Arena. Precious girl had learned her lesson just as he had wanted; trust would only get her killed, and it would be a shame if someone else destroyed his toy by using her naivety against her. "I want results."

"So cold… I thought we were friends." He pouted briefly before a grin overtook it. "I don't want to kill you on someone else's terms, but I cannot guarantee the possibility. Without knowing what Chrollo wants to do with you, my hands are tied." The truth… barely. He was just morbidly curious what Chrollo saw in her. And, ultimately, he would let his Danchou do whatever he wanted with her if interfering would jeopardize their fight. "You see, I want to fight him more than I want to fight you, so-"

"Then do as much as you can, bastard."

"I would prefer a better pet name than bastard."

"Stop acting like one then," she muttered under her breath. "Now, are you going to-"

Hisoka lunged forward, grabbing a fist-full of her shirt, jerking her away from the window. A second wave of her Nen threatened to slice into him, his own aura protecting him from the brunt of it- he would like at least one semi-useable hand, after all. Her back slammed into the window, glass shattering, shards sparkling in brilliant sunlight, Lan falling as he released his grip. A mid-air flip gave her enough time to land on her feet two-stories below.

The grin on his face as he innocently waved at her made her jaw clench in held-back offence. "I would start running, little fledgling," he helpfully added when she continued to glare up at him. If the Spiders planned to give chase under Chrollo's orders, he wouldn't stand in the way. Tossing Lan out a window had purely been for fun. Trying to trick him again, he would give her the illusion of escape in retribution. "I will do what I can, but no promises," he called down to her as she spun on her heel, her presence disappearing with Zetsu. "It would be a shame if you die before our rematch."

He stared after her retreating form until he lost sight of her among the buildings. "A shame indeed," he muttered as he leaned into the now shattered-glass window frame. A single picture of a decrepit building… He never intended for her to find them so quickly, severely misjudging her tracking abilities. His plan had been to fight her after introducing her to the Spiders, her intrusion easily justifying his actions. Chrollo's interest had perhaps only delayed the inevitable. Presumably Chrollo wanted her alive for now; he would have given her to Feitan instead if he wanted her dead. Hisoka would simply request-

A blur of black brought instant regret.


	13. Tangled Webs: Questionable Intentions

The print faded from focus as his attention drifted to something more… interesting.

Lan, the name was Anchian, as was the slight accent attached to her words. Her features were similar, although time tended to decay such specific, brief memories. Twenty years, in fact. Yet the woman, the Paijin, that had come to Meteor City all those years ago, Chrollo remembered her face well enough, he supposed. He had been an impressionable child, taken with rarities found amongst the scattered trash. Fanghe Paijin had been a rarity, even if mafia groups frequented the city to recruit residents into their ranks. The mystery had been lost when he learnt about Nen, the woman's unnerving presence the byproduct of powerful aura, but still, she had left an impression. One didn't often form an army out of the most battered and broken of Meteor City orphans, after all.

This Lan had to be a blood relative. Curious, considering all the Paijin were hunted down after Fanghe's assassination; one of the Fan Shi told him such, and she wasn't quite bright enough to lie back then- stealing her ability had, unfortunately, wizened her.

Regardless, if this Lan was a Paijin, specifically the _youngest_ Paijin, he might have some use for her. The Paijin supposedly held a Nen-item with some rather fascinating effects. A riskless initiation process and the fostering of Nen at a substantially accelerated rate, such an item would be invaluable to would-be dictators and underworld leaders. If that alone didn't prove the item's value, it had a secondary use: the ability to slowly kill a target through the uncontrollable release of aura. Chrollo wanted it. If only to sell it after admiring it for a while, he wanted it.

And he would take it. The Fan Shi, if they had since found the Paijin heiress, recruited her into their ranks, and recovered the item, then he would steal it from them. If not, then he had the only clue to its location. He would steal it before the Fan Shi could reach it. In either case, Lan would be a useful bargaining chip.

Hisoka had unknowingly brought him something interesting indeed.

"Kortopi." Phinks, ever irritated with the intrusion, continued to fume in a way uniquely his. The smell of cigarettes might cloud the entire room if he kept his pace. "Thought you had copies of this place around the area?"

"Yes." Kortopi's quiet voice responded. "Fifteen, just as Danchou requested."

"They look exactly like this one," Shizuku chimed in. She and Shalnark had accompanied Kortopi yesterday when choosing locations, the task giving them something to do while they waited for the rest to arrive. A distraction dressed as a precaution, although it could prove helpful when moving the merchandise to the base. The last time a group of pursuers stumbled upon their base, Uvogin's enthusiastic shouting had reduced an expensive, recently-acquired, pottery collection to shattered porcelain shards.

"Girl didn't enter any in mistake?" Feitan asked, catching onto Phinks' line of thought. They were thinking more critically about the situation now that Hisoka wasn't there to goad them.

"No," he replied with the slight shake of his head, long hair flying about. Kortopi would have undoubtedly mentioned if he had sensed someone trigger the trap. "My copies function as my En, but I never sensed anyone enter the fakes."

"That settles it!" Phinks growled, whipping around to stalk off towards the door, Feitan quick to follow. How excited they all were to attend the auction; their restlessness grew as the day dragged on, bickering inevitable, especially as Hisoka created his own fun by inviting a friend over. Unnecessary suspicion between Spiders couldn't be left to run wild. "Hisoka told her where-"

"Phinks. Feitan." Chrollo's voice stopped their advance, the two looking over their shoulders in waiting. The echo in the silence as he closed his book drew more curious eyes to him. He would help steer them in the right direction. "When did Hisoka arrive?"

"Late," Uvogin answered instead, always one for punctuality.

"After the copies were created," Pakunoda said, nail polish set aside as she joined the discussion. "If no one told him, its likely he doesn't know about them."

"I get it!" Shalnark hopped to his feet, pocketing his phone, ready to explain the series of events. "The locations of the fake bases are closer to more populated areas and main roads into the city. There's a higher probability that she would have come across a fake base before ending up here. Especially with how surprised she seemed when she saw us; had she been searching for an occupied building to begin with, she would have known we were here." He paused, waiting for an interruption, for a flaw to his logic to be pointed out. Shal continued when silence prevailed. "That, and the directions I gave everyone to get here used a backroad. If Hisoka followed that route and came straight here, he probably never saw any of the fake buildings to begin with. I don't think anyone told the groups that arrived in the evening about the copies, either."

"Tch." Feitan narrowed his eyes in slight irritation. "None mentioned it."

"Guess we shouldn't have left it to Shizu," Phinks muttered, glancing away as if to dismiss his involvement in the oversight.

"What? I don't remember that. No one ever told me to." A few members shared a collective sigh. Shizuku could be selective in her memories of mundane events. Direct orders and battle strategies were another matter, however. Still, perhaps he should have made it an order to share the copy information with the groups arriving later in the day, if only to avoid spurring a pointless argument. They did that well enough on their own, his Spiders.

"It took him long enough to get here," Nobunoga countered, interest drifting from the card game he was losing. "Might've gone a different way." _Saw the copies and given away our location_ was easily inferred from his scowl.

Machi decided to join the debate, plainly stating, "Hisoka checked his phone the moment we heard someone inside. I think she surprised him with how quickly she found us."

"Even assuming all this is fact, and that he sent just a single picture and nothing else, its bit farfetched. Don't you think?" Franklin looked between the others, a divide forming as they judged just how guilty Hisoka was in the matter. This was his trial, after all. The Troupe really didn't care about the girl; she might as well have been a stray cat wandering into the hideout. "Hisoka left the room briefly about two hours ago. That would mean she found this place on the first try using only the surrounding buildings as reference. Not a lot of time to check the whole area on foot, if you ask me."

"I s'pose he couldn't have taken a picture last night. Too dark for detail." Nobu quietly added, beginning to see the flaw in his own argument.

"A Nen ability, then," Shal offered up. "She is a Blacklist Hunter. A tracking ability would be useful in that profession."

"Shouldn't we have sensed something?" As if on cue, Franklin paused as Nen flared on the opposite side of the building. A fair amount of irritation and fear was reflected in the burst; her emotions were quite present in her aura. (Chrollo could understand what drew Hisoka and Lan together; their admiration from him he understood, as he was impressive, but staring at him with that level desirous bloodlust? That was a trait only those two shared- although, enough fear had also infected her aura to cause rational confliction, while Hisoka was... Hisoka.)

"Her aura isn't exactly subtle," Franklin finished as the flicker subsided.

"It was probably disguised by In," Machi offered, quietly adding, "Hisoka has a way of wearing at your patience if you let him."

"All right. All right, already." Phinks shoved his hands in his pockets, reluctantly relinquishing, "Fine, maybe he didn't tell her everything." Phinks lowered his voice to grumble, "He still sent a picture. If he does something stupid like this again, I'm punching the smile off his face. Permanently."

"More important, what now?"

With Feitan's question, the group looked to Chrollo for a final decision. They had picked up on his interest in the matter, in the girl. The silence shattered with the distant echo of broken glass, punctuated by another wave of enraged aura. In the following second, her presence vanished with Zetsu as she made her escape.

"Feitan, without doing grave harm, catch our guest," Chrollo carefully ordered. If she died, he no longer had this clue to finding the Nen-item; the Fan Shi seemed convinced her death meant its loss. He pocketed his book as he stood, adding, "Ask for her full name." As Chrollo stepped off the ledge, landing on the floor, Feitan quickly disappeared to give pursuit. "Machi." Her attention snapped to him, on her feet before he finished saying, "With me."

Chrollo felt no need to rush, content walking, his hands deep in his pockets. Machi followed a few steps behind him, quiet, but curious questions on the tip of her tongue. They all wanted to know what he was up to. As glass crunched underneath their feet, the Hisoka landed before them. Hisoka smiled, lip cut, blood smeared on his face like he had rested a bloodied hand on his chin. Up his arm and across his hands, lacerations colored white flesh red.

"If you plan to break my toy, may I request I do it, Danchou?" Sugar-sweet with underlying tones of aggravation, Hisoka had the look of an interrupted feast, of prey alluding capture. His wounds were, in all likelihood, some warped form a foreplay between the two. The girl must be a favorite of his.

"You're in the way, Hisoka." Machi stated, politely asking him to step aside.

Hisoka grinned, a bleeding hand on his hip as he stood his ground. He understood that their casual pace meant there was little harm in detaining them with requests; it was the principle of the matter, of questioning the head's decision, that irked Machi. Still, to ask, Hisoka showed a clear preference.

"I don't plan on killing her." For now, as she wasn't a grand threat to the auction heist, her usefulness outweighing her minor transgressions. Feitan might grow frustrated with her, but he would follow orders. Truthfully, Hisoka was currently more of a threat to her than Chrollo and the rest of the Troupe. "Rather, I require her alive."

"Hmm?" Hisoka's eyes were alight with intrigue, the veiled warning understood, its reception debatable. He mustn't know, then, about her connection to the Paijin, to the Nen-item. Hisoka held his hands to the side in defeat, dramatically declaring, "Then who am I to interrupt? My sincerest apologies." Instead of walking around, he chose to pass between Chrollo and Machi, brushing by them both in that nearly unsettling manner of his. Hisoka could be a bit odd, even for a Spider. It made him interesting, to say the least.

Within a half minute of trailing Feitan, a pulse of aura raced over the area. From above them, curiously enough. Quite the distance from the girl, her defensive aura now felt as Feitan caught up to her- impressive, avoiding him this long. In that flicker of a moment, a speck of pale light rounded the corner of a building, disappearing from sight and detection a moment later.

"That was En." Machi's narrowed eyes lingered where the glow had vanished. "And In."

The flight pattern, the general shape, it appeared to be a bird. A Nen beast of some variety, then. One capable of using En and In independently of its user. A conjurer or specialist, most likely, given this novel ability. Perhaps he would ask her about it later. He was always looking to add to his collection.

"Machi, I want you to patch her up once we arrive." Chrollo sent Feitan knowing the consequences. He could inflict a variety of injuries while operating within the do not kill order. Fixing her up like it was a mistake might even garner him some misplaced trust; it would make her more cooperative if she believed he was on her side. Resistant hostages could be so tiresome. Especially when they annoyed the Spiders into killing them.

"All right," Machi agreed. He half expected her to charge him an exorbitant fee for her services. She rarely waved her fees, even for other Spiders, himself included most of the time. "What then?"

"Curious?" Chrollo felt a smile pull at his lips as Machi glanced away from him. She was. "I will deal with her personally after the auction. She has something I want, but I would like to investigate a bit more before deciding if its mission worthy." He could probably obtain the item on his own with minimal hassle. If the Fan Shi decided to involve themselves, he would consider inviting a few of the Troupe along to assist for the sake convenience.

She glanced back at him, quietly sighing. "I get the feeling its more complicated than you're making it seem."

"Your intuition is usually right." They already had one Fan Shi consistently interrupting missions from the last time he ignored Machi's intuition.

* * *

Two blocks from the hideout, Feitan found her. Dusty footprints outside the base, leading straight ahead and away, were the only clues he had to what direction she had desperately run while hiding in Zetsu. He would have caught her immediately otherwise, he reasoned. Even with whatever trick she had attempted.

About fifteen seconds ago, before he could see her, when he could only hear soft footfalls over uneven, crumbling pavement in the adjacent alley, there was a shift in her aura. Like she had used En, he felt it first surround him, then move above and behind him. The girl was still in Zetsu. Using En and Zetsu simultaneously, two polar opposite techniques, made no sense. But if she thought that that would be enough to trick him…

The white skull on her vest became a beacon as he turned a final corner. Danchou and Machi could investigate the odd ability she had used if they wanted. He had something more fun to do.

Just like that, she left Zetsu, activating Ten, turning on her heel as he crashed into her at full speed. Her feet slipped out from under her, sending her face into concrete with a smack. His foot dug into her back before she could push herself up from the ground. He grabbed her left arm, yanking it back, a resounding _pop_ echoing in the deserted street.

"D-did you just break my damn arm?" she half-shouted, trying to crane her neck to see behind her.

His brows furrowed tightly. No. No, he did not break her arm. He _dislocated_ her shoulder. Those were two very different types of pain; usually even the toughest of people showed some sign of discomfort at the pain shoulder dislocation caused. How could someone not know the difference? They didn't even sound the same.

As Feitan removed his foot from her back, he pulled her up using the same arm. While she reluctantly stumbled to her feet, she didn't so much as flinch as he wrenched her arm behind her back. A push made her step forward. She recognized escape was impossible, then. If she knew what was… What would usually be coming, she would have struggled more. As much as he wanted to torture her, he had orders. Danchou had that look on his face when he first saw the girl. The look of seeing something he wanted to steal.

With a shove, he forced her into an abandoned building. He slammed the door behind him, pleased to see it was a confined room, other doors closed, nowhere to hide. She quickly found the corner, biting her lip as she examined her arm. Even as she raised it, strained the dislocation, caused herself further injury, she appeared annoyed rather than pained. The bruising bitemark on her neck was absolutely repulsive; she might have a higher pain tolerance than most if Hisoka kept her as a bed mate- _that_ may be the grossest image Feitan's mind ever conjured.

"Name." Not a question. A demand.

Her eyes drifted from her arm, narrowing into a glare as she looked at him. "Lan," she said tersely, incorrectly.

" _Full_ name."

Uncooperative silence was broken as he stepped forward, hands coming back out of his pockets. Her body tensed, nowhere to run with her back to a windowless wall. Panic tainted stubborn defiance. Before she could react, he lunged forward, fingers catching her shirt collar, throwing her into the ground, tile cracking with the force. The impact of her chin slamming into the floor momentarily stunned her. Feitan wrenched her arm behind her back, his knee digging into her spine to keep her on the floor under the threat snapping it. With her cheek pressed to the floor, she struggled to see his face.

He gripped the nail of her index finger, pulling with agonizing slowness. Nothing. Not until he tossed the bloodied nail aside within her line of sight. Then her eyes widened in satisfactory fear. Still, he felt his irritation rising as her expression didn't go beyond mild inconvenience.

" _Full name_ ," he repeated for a final time. 'Grave injury' left him plenty room to work.

Another nail was torn off at her hesitation. Her lips pressed tight when he dropped it a fraction from her nose. A snap made her anger cycle back to fear. She mustn't feel pain at all. He jerked her arm around, allowing her to see splintered bone stabbing through skin, her finger hanging limply to side as dark red stained his fingers. The color drained from her face.

"Last chance."

"Lanfen Paijin," she whispered into the ground, defeated.

Heavy silence settled over the room. He thought she looked Anchian, but _Paijin_ no less. A little mafia dog from a dead line of traffickers… He had about thirty seconds of babysitting left before Danchou arrived with Machi. He could feel his lips trying to twitch into some semblance of a smile. Sounded like ample time. Maybe slice off a limb or two? Machi could stitch her back together, keep her alive- that's why she was chosen to come with, after all. Or, he could just contort her arm a bit more, break it in a few places, so she could watch in horror as he snapped more fingers. Actually, flaying skin would accomplish that even more effectively. Then again, maybe he just hadn't done enough to cause pain yet. A bit more damage in the right places wouldn't kill her.

His bloodlust had given away his intentions.

A flash of flickering blue, her aura flared to life over her back. Feitan stood as her aura caught the edge of his cloak, piercing and tearing the fabric like a few dozen daggers. His fingers released her wrist with the lightning change in Nen flow. Superficial, white-line scratches marred his palm. Had he held on, he might actually have a few _bleeding_ scratches.

His foot caught her stomach to fling her to the other side of the room. Instead of smashing into the wall, she got her feet beneath her, left arm limp at her side, index finger threatening to detach with a final tug. Her knees bent, muscles tensing. He waited, hands tauntingly in his pockets.

Arm above her head, she jumped upwards. Her aura tore into the ceiling to weaken the structure. Eventually, it would collapse the second floor onto them. Annoying. Feitan rushed forward, dodging chunks of debris. As he launched himself toward her, Nen shrouded the arm he was preparing to slice off. His Shu-enhanced nails slid off the aura like clashing blades. She tried to retreat with a quick hop backwards. He followed.

In the second he reached out, her Nen materialized something more than a blade coating. Like a narrow-faced wolf or an overgrown fox, teeth snapped onto his arm, latching onto flesh, force enough to crush an average person's bones to dust. Feitan grabbed its upper jaw with his other hand, fur driven into his palm like hundreds of needles before he finally relented and focused more Nen into his hand; not out of pain, fear, or defeat, but because he had an auction to attend later. The punctures on his arm would be hidden by his sleeves, more damage to his hands, not so much. Phinks would never shut up if he got scratched up by Hisoka's chew toy- terrible analogy almost made him cringe. He'd like to see Phinks fight this ridiculous girl making knife-covered foxes out aura and come out of it unscathed.

As he pried himself free, the fox retreated back to her side before fading as she released it. She then kicked a piece of rubble towards his face. Feitan smacked it out of the way like it wasn't half his height and twice his weight. In that time, she had scrambled to a small window, busying herself with pulling herself outside.

A tug to her vest dislodged her easily enough. He threw her to the side, bored with this, mortar shattering upon impact as she flew through a wall into another room. She rested her back against a force-cracked wall. Stunned, but she had used her aura as a cushion again to keep conscious.

"Damn," she whispered, blood dripping down her chin. Between heavy breaths, she coughed at the lingering dust clogging the air. Her expression… irritated him. No winces from pain, she watched him with a look between admiration and terror. She reminded him of Hisoka, but with a speck of rational fear preventing her from foolishly pulling herself from the ground to continue.

Her 'saviors' had arrived.

He left her in the building, convinced she understood this as the only act of mercy she would receive. If she tried to run again, she would have three on her trail opposed to one. Danchou might even rescind the 'don't kill' order if she misbehaved; Feitan would happily finish what she started in resisting.

"Lanfen Paijin," he said as he stopped in front of them. Danchou, unfortunately, looked pleased. Feitan wouldn't be getting to kill her, then, even if she did escape again. A hostage or something, probably. He didn't really care.

"Did you learn anything else worth noting?"

"Doesn't feel pain," he said, narrowing his eyes with a touch of residual frustration. Given more time, he could have found a more effective torture method. Peeling away skin was probably the solution… His answer only seemed to please Danchou more, like he expected this. Feitan had wondered why he didn't have someone more 'gentle' catch her since he wanted her alive. Sending the torturer made sense if he wanted to test her pain tolerance. "Nen sharp like metal blade but flexible. Shaped it like fox or dog to attack."

The two wordlessly absorbed the information as Feitan returned his hands to his pockets, then stepping into the shadow of the building. No point in waiting in the sun while Machi cleaned up the mess.

"How much work did you leave me?" Machi asked, already passing by him.

"Could be worse." A lot worse. Machi would not have been happy with him if he had taken their little spat seriously. Neither would Danchou, considering the girl would bleeding out from a nasty combination severed limbs, flayed flesh, _and_ broken bones- he decided all the above would be the most satisfying method. Really, he had treated her very nicely.

He could take out his frustration at the auction later anyway.

* * *

Lan rubbed her arm across her face, smearing blood onto her dust-covered sleeve.

That Feitan guy, damn. Potentially faster than Hisoka, and he wasn't even trying. The whole scuffle seemed more like a chore to him than anything else. Definitely impressive, but also an asshole. She stared at her left hand, two nails missing and a broken finger. The moment she felt his bloodlust, she knew more damage would follow. They sent a presumed torturer after her… So much for Hisoka 'doing what he can' to help.

The only reason she attempted an attack, another escape, a distraction, was because she knew others were coming- either with or without Hisoka. Nemmi had used En for a reason earlier; that pulse of aura had given her an approximate location to her additional pursuers. While a hit to her pride, she knew one Spider was more than enough to kill her. Sending more, well, that was overkill, or they had something else to accomplish. Only asking for her name, she had a good idea of who to blame for this.

Nemmi arrived in a quiet tizzy, flapping his wings, bobbing his head, talons digging into the floor the second he landed. At least the broken window proved a better bird entrance than emergency exit. (She took note to not wear her vest if she lived long enough to fight Hisoka, or to any future fights. The wardrobe malfunctions needed to stop.)

"How many more?" she whispered.

While fleeing the Spider den, she had ordered him to use En if he spotted pursuers before returning to In to keep hidden. Too bad Feitan's speed overtook Nemmi's a hundred times over, leaving her blind to his location. Although, he probably would have destroyed Nemmi in one hit after the silly bird disobeyed her 'don't attack unless I say so' command; Nemmi tended to do that when he was in the room and she was clearly outranked. Sometimes, Nemmi having 'free will' based on the… the actual Nemmi's behaviors, backfired on her. Although, it also did allow Nemmi to function independently, like when she fell unconscious.

A pause followed by two scratches. Another part of the contractual loops Nemmi operated under: she had no idea what the bird witnessed until he told her through a series of bizarre gestures. He added another line to one mark, forming a cross.

The… the leader came with? She chewed on her lip, stopping when she tasted more blood in her mouth. When she got hit into the wall, she must have cut it open on her teeth. Grand.

But really, Chrollo came with? She regrettably found it oddly flattering that the Troupe leader personally came with to… to whatever. She had ideas, most unpleasant. Paijin might have mafia connections, but what would the Phantom Troupe want enough to-

That item thing of Fanghe's. Troublesome…

"And no Hisoka?"

Nemmi moved his head side to side in a clear _no_.

Three Troupe members, leader included, Hisoka absent, she was woefully outmatched. Running had already proven impossible. Feitan would catch her before she took more than two steps. Who knows what the other two were capable of. Cooperation would be the best option, but...

Footsteps echoing in the other room made her attention snap from the floor to the hole in the wall. Nemmi remained in In, but she motioned for him to leave for the time being. She didn't want his presence mistaken as a will to fight. Whoever was coming made sure she knew about them, the obvious footsteps a wordless peace offering meant to comfort her rather than startle her. As Nemmi skittered to the other side of the room, through a door-less frame into a hall, the person stepped into view.

The woman with bright pink hair and mostly traditional Japponese clothes reminiscent of a ninja's, her critical blue eyes skated over Lan. Her gaze lingered the longest on her left hand, the mangled finger in particular. The silence quickly became deafening.

Her phone decided to break the pause. Lan tried to ignore the vibrating in her pocket, the noise very audible in the quiet, not quite sure what etiquette the moment deserved. Did one answer a phone call when essentially held hostage? Could she reach into her pocket without being suspicious, triggering another unwinnable scuffle? It kept going, reaching the point of absurdity, or the moment just felt abnormally long under the woman's gaze.

"You going to answer that?"

Lan blinked at the voice, effectively brought back to the moment. She carefully dug her phone out. By some miracle, the screen wasn't cracked from Feitan tossing her around. The woman gave her permission to _answer_ the call, right? Not just hang up and go back to dealing with the Spider mess? Without taking her eyes off the woman, feeling the need to watch for any changes in her calm expression, she poked at her phone and held it up to her ear.

"Are you still alive, fledgling?"

"I am," was her flat response. Of course, who else would call her at this very moment but Hisoka? Irritation with him began to replace fear for the Spider still before her. "You-"

"Is there an absolutely radiant kunoichi there?" he asked over her complaints.

She paused, staring at the woman in front of her. Radiant? Check. And Kunoichi. That's the word she was looking for, not just ninja. She matched Hisoka's description perfectly. "Yes."

"Would you give her the phone?" Lan's eyebrows knitted together at the request. He had something planned. His damn tone ensured it, all sweet and falsely sincere. "You have to be hurt, fledgling. Let me help."

She sighed in acceptance. The longer she waited, the more likely she would be losing a finger. Even then she might, since her medical training was nonexistent at worst, minimal at best. Cuts were more her expertise than… bone sticking out of skin. She couldn't imagine the Spiders letting her go to a hospital before continuing with what would become a lengthy interrogation process.

She held her phone out. No reaction. "It's Hisoka," she explained, hoping to make some form of progress in this awkward exchange. The other woman stared at it like it was either annoying, bizarre, or both; she could hold a blank expression way better than Lan. Another moment passed before she bent down, snatched the phone, and then paced a few steps away.

Hisoka must have done all the talking, because the second the woman said, "All right." she paced back. Then she proceeded to toss the phone to Lan. Her phone's life flashed before her eyes as she fumbled to catch it before it met the floor in a horrendous clatter. The still ticking time had her holding the phone back to her ear.

"You need to be in working condition so I can play with you some more," Hisoka declared. "I paid Machi to fix you up. I'm sure Feitan caused some damage to you." Actual annoyance drifted into his sing-song voice. The thought of someone else dissecting her bothered him. How comforting- not. "Talk to you soon, fledgling." He hung up without another word explaining the situation.

With a bit of exasperation, she shoved her phone back into her pocket. In the same moment, Machi took a final step forward to officially be uncomfortably close. Lan looked up from her spot on the ground, the pink-haired woman suddenly much, much more intimidating. And pretty. Another elegant predator, the Spiders truly exceeded her expectations in every way. No wonder Hisoka would choose them over her.

"Is your shoulder dislocated?" Her voice, while not giving away any emotion, sounded sharp and commanding. For that to be her first question, Feitan must do this a lot.

"I think so," Lan offered immediately, Machi's stern tone making it very clear that if she wanted help, she should answer.

Within a fraction of a second, Machi crouched down, hand on her left shoulder. A few precise movements later, Lan heard a pop as her joint resettled into its proper place.

"Get up." Machi stood, taking a few steps away. "You're too close to the wall. I'd like more room to work."

Setting her shoulder in place before making more requests was… was that supposed to be a sign to trust her? The explanation tacked on as an afterthought meant to further that? Lan slowly pushed herself off the floor, debris cascading off her clothes. She didn't have much choice if she wanted to keep her finger.

"Raise your arm so I can look at your hand."

Lan complied, raising her left arm, spreading her fingers out so she could see the damage. Curiosity started to get the better of her, caution fading as Machi seemed helpful enough at the moment. She wondered how she intended to fix this small problem; she didn't appear to have any sort of 'first-aid' kit on her. Nen, probably, but that made her even more curious. Lan would love to see a Spider at work- other than Hisoka and his stupidly effective gum ability that would surely prove a further nuisance to her.

Machi studied the damage closely for a moment, eyes hyper-focused on every aspect of the wound. She eventually grabbed Lan's wrist, holding it still, while her other hand went to the broken finger. A single movement had the bone at least back under the flesh- some things just shouldn't be seen, your own bones one of them.

"Hold it just like this," she said, waiting for Lan to take over holding her finger together. Once she had her hands free, Machi reached for a needle neatly pinned in a cushion attached to her glove. "Keep still. Drop your aura, too."

Lan could see Machi's aura beginning to strengthen as she prepared to do… something. Reluctantly, for the sake of her finger, she let the last scrap of her defensive Nen fade away. As Machi pulled out a needle, a thin Nen thread formed. Lan fought leaning in for a closer look, her eyes sparkling as she almost struggled to follow Machi's rapid movements. She could barely feel the needle going in and out of her skin, the thread leaving an odd residual warmth as it fixed everything into place. With a final pull and a snap of the string, she finished, returning the needle to its cushion. Lan stared at her finger while fighting a smile. She bent it, finding it worked even after being all but severed. Amazing. Simply amazing. She might actually be willing to get hurt again and part with some money to watch Machi's Nen at work a second time.

"The look on your face is just like Hisoka's," Machi commented as she stepped back. Lan tore her attention away from her hand to stare dumbly at the other woman while trying to hide how impressed she was. Should she say, 'thank you for fixing what your associate did?' She couldn't decide if that was appropriate or not. "Anything else?" Lan shook her head, Machi adding, "Then you survived two minutes with Feitan better than I thought you would. He must have been in a good mood."

Two minutes. That's it. The entire chase and capture had only lasted two minutes. And that was a good mood? Living on another plane of existence, operating under their own rules, these people were something else.

"Danchou wants to talk to you when we've finished our job in Yorknew. It'd be in your best interest to stick around." Machi paused, Lan eventually muttering an 'okay' to show she understood, even if she didn't. It almost sounded like they were letting her run free until then? Made more sense to keep her tied up somewhere. Then again, it was fact rather than arrogance that they could easily catch her again if she tried to flee. "Well, that's it." Machi unceremoniously turned on her heel, walking back through the rubble to rejoin the other two.

Lan reluctantly followed a few steps behind her. She rationalized that it was the nearest exit, that maybe she could gain some inkling of her fate from seeing him again, not that simple, stupid curiosity of hers. Stepping out into the sunshine again felt odd. Seeing the three of them in the sunlight somehow felt wrong. Machi calmly, wordlessly stood between the other two, her hair nearly florescent pink in the afternoon sun. Feitan looked impassive, his eyes not giving away whatever expression he might have under his sweltering cloak. Finally, she dared glance at Chrollo. Lan quickly learned that the Troupe had the most impressive assembly of poker faces in existence. While their eyes met, as she stared into endless gray, his emotions and thoughts were a mystery.

"It was nice to meet you, Lanfen," he said, his words foreboding and polite in the same moment. Something about hearing her full first name from the lips of the devil himself made her panic and swoon in the same heartbeat. Captivating in the same beautiful, deadly way Hisoka was… She almost quaked at his presence in that odd combination of anticipatory dread.

Lan stood frozen, eyes fixated on the reversed cross of his coat as he walked away, as he lead his Spiders back to their web.

A weight on her shoulder shook her from her daze. Nemmi gave her a concerned head tilt paired with a gentle squeeze of his talons. Now standing alone in the middle of the street, sun beating down on her head, she considered what came next. They wanted the item, but…

She had no idea where it was, no idea what it even did. They… they wouldn't take that well. She could try to explain, but the pathetic truth, she doubted they would accept it. She would be back in the hands of the torturer. Again, relying on Hisoka to help smooth things over…

Her best option might be letting him kill her first.

It would be slightly better than letting Feitan slowly dissect her for information she didn't have… With Machi's ability, they could keep piecing her back together after cutting her apart in an endless cycle of horror and misery.

She wrung her hands together, trying not to sink her teeth into her lip again. For a person that didn't feel pain, she feared torture more than she should. She didn't want a slow death. She didn't want to die at all, unless, maybe, she chose how, but something prolonged… Suffocation. Illness. Drowning. And now, torture. The list of her most feared ways to die unfortunately grew.

"I hope you keep that promise, in the very least…" Lan muttered, finally dragging her feet in the opposite direction the Troupe had gone. "That my life is yours… That you won't let anyone else kill me before you do."

Hisoka killing her might be the only mercy he had to offer her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I was making Lan's character, her love interests were Hisoka... and Feitan. That changed, but I kept his POV because his frustration and confusion over her not feeling pain was too much fun to pass up. Feitan is one of my favs of the troupe, mostly aesthetic-wise, but Machi, Phinks, and Shalnark are runners-up. Oh, since it came up last chapter, I like danchou over boss and chose Chrollo over Kuroro and Lucilfer over Lucifer. All these different spellings/translations/and-whatnot are strange to deal with; usually you get one option and everything else is flat-out wrong. Doesn't help that I started with the dub before binging the sub. 
> 
> I never really know what to say, since this is all, you know, pre-written, but I don't like not interacting at all? Idk.


	14. A Matter of Convenience: Misdirection

Lan caught sight of her hand again. Makeup just couldn't hide ripped off nails like it hid bruises. Machi's Nen was amazing, though, her broken finger completely unnoticeable. Maybe she should have bought gloves earlier when she had picked out a suitable dress for the auction. Mafia could recognize signs of torture, removed nails common punishment for the misbehaved. Her injuries may draw unwanted attention. She pulled her cardigan sleeve down in a hopeless effort.

She continued down the busy sidewalk lined with storefronts, glancing to the sunset-pink sky. Nemmi continued peacefully circling overhead, free of orders, the populated area her protection as the mafia declared a spider hunt in the wake of their auction assault and robbery.

The night of the first… Returning to the hotel room after her not-so-permanent escape from the Troupe, Auntie had gone through a rainbow of emotions. Things might have gone better if she hadn't tried to hide the fact she had been in a fight- the looks she got for washing blood off in a train station's public bathroom were something. The second Lan had thrown her vest to the side, ready to go to bed, Auntie noticed the bitemark and jumped to the very wrong conclusion that it was a hickey- well, it was, but since Lan didn't really approve of Hisoka's behavior, she deemed it as nothing more than a bruise. Trying to explain the situation to Auntie without actually explaining the situation proved as impossible as it sounded. Might not help that the old woman was a romantic at heart; she wanted her niece to find a nice guy to settle down with, to start a family with. Auntie's excitement tail-spun when she caught sight of Lan's hand, though. Of course, Lan couldn't tell her that she had gone out to play with her infamous friend again only for him to lead her into the hands of notoriously dangerous bandits. Her lame excuse of slamming her hand in a door hadn't gone over so well. In all likelihood, Auntie would think she had run into some Bai Ze or had gotten into trouble with some local gangsters- it had happened before. If it was just some mafia, Auntie shouldn't worry herself over it. She should know by now that Nen beat bullets.

Yet, did any of this dissuade Auntie from wanting to attend the auction? Not. At. All. Did the Troupe raiding the auction deter her from attending the auction tonight? Not as much as it should, because they were still going. That stupid, one-of-a-kind, invaluable vase be damned. Lan would be acting as Auntie's bodyguard regardless, but she hoped the Troupe wouldn't attack again. Getting _herself_ away had been accomplished through some form of pity and necessity. Auntie would be positively defenseless against them.

She bit her lip, reminded that _she_ was rather defenseless against them, and that they weren't done with her.

Hisoka made everything worse.

In addition to his rather blasé attitude over the importance of her life, in his half-hearted promise to help her, that… moment… they shared ate at her. The feel of his lips on hers, the way his hands ran over her body, the warmth of being held tightly in his arms, she hated that she enjoyed it. Even with the roughness, with the unsaid threats, the utter lack of trust, she _enjoyed_ that moment because… Because she enjoyed physical affection as much as any human. She shied away from it, too awkward for most without being drowned in alcohol, too afraid of being hurt to seek it while in her right state of mind, but she craved it.

And Hisoka… For all the admiration she held for him, for his freedom, for his strength, for his disregard for everything he deemed uninteresting, she could never emulate him. Not completely. Because, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to live for only her own selfish desires and flits of fancy, she cared. She might deny it, try to hide it, be awful at expressing it, but she cared. About a select few. For Nemmi. For Auntie. For Yan and Tai. For Knuckle, Shoot, and Morel. Even for Hisoka, despite his fickle interest in her. She cared about them. She preferred them alive and well. She wanted them to like her, even.

Convincing him to see her as a friend over a simple ally may be a fruitless effort in the end, but as a romantic partner? No. Absolutely the most foolish thought to ever cross her mind. She shouldn't have let it happen, shouldn't have allowed herself to think of what-ifs beyond her goals. He should have remained at a distance, as a role model, as a learning tool, as a fair-weather ally, as an oddity to waste time speaking with, not… Not whatever he was becoming.

She couldn't control him. She couldn't trust him. His whims dictated her survival. That combination was sure to destroy her physically and/or emotionally if _something_ didn't change, and she wasn't sure where to even begin to-

"Lanfen."

Her blood became ice as her feet dragged to a screeching halt. That voice… Dread accelerated her heartbeat as she stiffly turned her head to look over shoulder. Behind her stood the last person in existence she expected to meet while innocently wandering around. Wearing a suit, forehead wrapped with a bandage, only his jade earrings, ghostly eyes, and smooth voice gave him away.

"Would you join me for a moment?" Chrollo asked politely enough that her frazzled brain couldn't tell if it was a suggestion or an order. His expression gave away nothing.

Regardless, she knew better than to refuse. Compliance might be the only thing that kept her from being killed. Or worse, handed over to Feitan.

The slightest nod had him taking the lead, her obediently and blindly following him while she tried to swat away overt panic. He couldn't want the item yet, right? Machi said they would be 'in touch' following their job in Yorknew. Presumably that meant the auction. With the boring way he was dressed- not that he didn't look good, she just preferred the gothic look more- he was personally going to the auction tonight. They weren't just going to hit one night and move on; they were taking everything, so why was he here talking to her? Surely, he had better things to be doing.

As he turned towards a deceptively peaceful bookstore-coffee shop combination, Lan scrambled to grab her phone out of her cardigan's pocket, cursing that she didn't have her usual clothes on right now. With her sweatshirt, she could text with it still in her pocket. A quick look skyward and a slight tip of her head sent Nemmi plummeting to the ground. He hopped beside her feet, aiming concerned looks at her as Chrollo opened the door. The chime was hilariously cheerful, the calm atmosphere utterly wrong for the circumstances. He didn't so much as glance at her, continuing to walk towards an empty table in the corner.

In a last hope effort, she began texting Hisoka. After the tedium of reaching him in her contacts, of turning the brightness down completely, she typed blindly at her side while trying to hide her phone. Even as she sat down across from Chrollo, Nemmi scurrying under the table, her nerves screaming, she worked to finish her simple question to the magician: why am I on a date with Chrollo instead of you? He might be more apt to answer something ridiculous. And she _needed_ an answer. She needed to know the proper amount of stressed she should be.

Movement snapped her attention from the tabletop to Chrollo. He held his hand out in a manner that very clearly said hand me something. She hesitated, unsure what he wanted because she swore she had her phone… His eyes drifted to the window beside them, her eyes following, the reflection very clearly showing her phone in her hand, the faintest glow against her thigh. To hide mortified eyes, she leaned forward, an elbow on the table and a hand on her forehead. Reluctantly, and after finishing her message, she passed him her phone.

 _I'm an idiot, Nemmi._ A jab to her ankle showed Nemmi wholly agreed.

* * *

"You're attending the auction tonight," Chrollo commented offhandedly, far more interested in searching through her phone. While labeled with a row of card suits, it was abundantly clear who she was desperately trying to message. She didn't delete her conversation history very often, either. He quickly found the picture Hisoka had sent her on the first, proving his theory that she truly had found the base through the surrounding buildings. Incidentally, he learned Hisoka wasn't the only one with a love for emojis, for referring to any meet-up as a date, and excitable, borderline-inappropriate rants about fights.

Lanfen slumped further into her chair. "Just… Just look through it." She fiddled with her sleeve, not wishing to make idle small talk. That worked for him.

Happening upon her while on his way to Neon Nostrade, it had been a rather convenient coincidence. The fact he gained such easy access to her phone made taking a few moments to talk to her worth it, as otherwise he would have had to get Shalnark to hack into it or have Pakunoda or Feitan get the answers out of her. Needlessly bothersome for such a simple question.

He left behind her conversations with Hisoka, the magician not the subject of his investigation. Her woeful few contacts followed the pattern of being named by emojis, with the exception of one plainly labeled Hunter Association. Nothing overtly hinted at the Fan Shi. The 'fist' had almost exclusively pictures of various animals- most of which would be deemed highly adorable or dangerous. The 'boat' and 'plant sprout' went back and forth discussing detailed research into tusked plain-ring octopus numbers and overfishing- a common poison was derived from it, he recalled. She certainly wasn't a Blacklist Hunter. He wondered which one had lied, both possibilities a bit amusing. Either she had tricked Hisoka, or he had risked her life for a few seconds of amusement.

After a glance at her outgoing calls, only one additional number present, he returned her phone. She did not appear to be a member of or in contact with the Fan Shi. A shame, almost, considering this would take more time. He doubted Lanfen knew anything; too young to remember the Paijin's downfall for herself. She was more like a corner piece to a puzzle. In order to fill in more of the picture, he would need a member of the Fan Shi. (Aside from Sybil, of course. She had already shared the extent of her knowledge and would be far from cooperative- Feitan may even struggle to break her. The leader would be best, but even foolish Sybil hadn't named them. Perhaps there wasn't a de facto leader. That would make matters more complicated. Maybe finding this Nen-item would be more entertaining than he had anticipated with all these variables.)

"What do you want?" Her voice slipped out as rather demanding for someone scowling at the table in a mix of embarrassment and nerves.

"Hisoka seems to consider you worth interest." A half-lie, which she appeared to pick up on judging her expression. She knew what he wanted, then. "Would you consider joining the Troupe?"

A raised eyebrow quickly replaced complete shock on her face. She didn't believe the offer to be genuine, but he regrettably found himself with an opening... Lanfen would not be a horrendous addition, the Fan Shi all skilled Nen-users in his experience. Although, they already had a decent number of members with reconnaissance abilities. Feitan had described a more offensive application of her Nen, so perhaps she could serve two roles. Then again, the look on her face said she wasn't very willing to join. Her ability alone would serve him well enough.

"Your Nen appears to be rather useful," he continued, glancing to the reflection in the window again. He had seen it hopping alongside her at the same time as her desperate texting; specifically, right when they entered. He had noticed it earlier as well. Before he had approached her, in fact. The creature seemed to be permanently summoned yet… Why bother? The thing must constantly siphon energy away from her.

Lanfen sighed heavily, sticking her arm under the table, taking his comment as a demand to see the thing. Such a cooperative girl, she must find him absolutely intimidating. He didn't think Hisoka would appreciate blind complacency in his prey, after all. The bird gripped her arm judging how the fabric of her sleeve bunched. It remained in In, invisible without Gyo. He had to use it earlier to see the bird as well; holding In for such extended periods, how relatively pointless and moderately impressive.

"When did you notice?" she asked, refusing to drop In. Unless she had forfeited control over it to strengthen it; the bird might involve a complex set of conditions- how unfortunate for him if that was the case. Her arm rested on the table briefly, the creature leaping off, light scratches appearing on the wooden surface. "Cut it out, Nemmi," she whispered, voice barely audible.

A few seconds later, the thing became visible. It appeared to be a species of crow, appearance warped by the nature of its composition. Entirely Nen, not a conjured creature per se, but a reserve of energy that happened to take the form of a crow. It was a bizarre application of Nen. Certainly not a conjurer's work- the creature would be visible to the other patrons right now if that was the case. The description of reactive metal leaned more towards transmutation. Unless she was a specialist, then she was likely a transmuter. This… abomination… must have a ridiculous number of limitations and conditions to function to this degree.

"When it switched between En and In," he honestly answered, watching as her eyes lit with annoyance and admiration. The briefest fraction of a second had passed between those states; she must be used to her Nen going unnoticed. "A final question, Lanfen." She perked up immediately. He thought he had been rather polite throughout the exchange… "Are you completely insensitive to pain? Feitan had been under that impression given your lacking reactions." And Fei knew how to torture most anyone, even those with high pain thresholds. It had not been some error for Fei to conclude what he did.

Silence fell between them, Lanfen shifting slightly, _Nemmi_ tearing its attention from Chrollo to glance at her- 'Was it sentient?' would be his next debate if he grew bored waiting for her to respond.

He already knew the truth. The Nen-item had been used on her at some point, pain insensitivity an aftereffect. Sybil was the same. All the Fan Shi were the same. In exchange for something rather inconvenient, the item accelerated growth and fostered natural talent.

She stared at him another moment before breaking eye contact, muttering, "You seem to know the answer already." Not much of a conversationalist while under needless duress. "Look, I don't want to get involved in the mess you've created with the mafia. I know I'm in no position to refuse to…" Her eyes narrowed in frustration as her focus drifted to the window, avoiding his gaze. "To _help_ you find Fanghe's item, but I don't…" The name held absolute loathing, but hesitation trailed her words off into uncertainty.

"I'm aware."

Her attention shot back to him, confusion apparent before she shoved the expression aside, faking indifference. She was truly clueless about her role in finding the item. "Then why do you need me?" And her tone returned to demanding, eyes determined, while Nemmi's feathers rose defensively. Again, he wondered if the creature was sentient or reacted according to her mental state like normal Nen.

"Bait for the Fan Shi," he said simply, letting her figure it out from there. She seemed intelligent enough, despite unwittingly walking into their base. Hisoka probably found her cycling through emotions rather amusing; Chrollo admittedly found some humor in it as well. The erratic changes would make it more difficult to gauge her thoughts, to identify truths from lies because everything seemed genuine enough. If she controlled her body language better, she would be an outstanding liar.

"And if I _do_ refuse?" she half-heartedly asked, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes darted away from his again. The nervous fiddling with her sleeve gave away the importance hidden in her question. This was something she desperately wanted answered, while she also didn't want to impart the impression of weighing her options should he not take that well.

"Then you will inevitably face the Fan Shi alone without any assurance you survive."

"You don't plan on killing me?" A touch of surprise leaked into her otherwise suspicious voice.

"Do I?" Her life didn't matter to him in the slightest outside of gaining the item. He supposed if she was cooperative enough, she could go free once he had what he wanted- Hisoka would be pleased to hear that considering he favored her enough to inquire about her fate. With one caveat, of course. "Only if it's necessary." If for some reason retrieving the item required her death, then she would die. It was as simple as that. Unless she did join the Troupe, because he wouldn't severe a limb over a trinket.

"How… reassuring." Despite the sarcasm, she seemed accepting of the situation. "So…" The light scrape of the chair as she pushed away from the table finished her unsaid question.

However, before she could leave, he had a few final things to investigate.

* * *

Lan skittishly stood even if Chrollo hadn't dismissed her or given her any indication that he was about to leave her in peace for the time being. As if prophetic of their entire relationship, her phone _finally_ buzzed with an answer from Hisoka.

_"have fun ;)"_

Her lips pressed into a thin line to keep her from cussing as she jammed her phone back into her pocket. As damn helpful as ever, that bastard. Even if he didn't know why Chrollo was here, he could have told her in a less infuriating way.

She stole another glance at Chrollo before pushing her luck and beginning to walk away. Nothing. His mannerisms were too subtle for her to read accurately. Maybe mildly amused? She didn't really care as long as it wasn't anger. Nemmi hopped onto her shoulder with a snippy snap of his beak, returning to In. He did not like Chrollo at all, this a preview of how he would probably act around Hisoka. One of them had to be rational.

Only a few steps from the table, she caught sight of Chrollo following, stupid reflections on the window now her friend- she should have been more observant, now miffed at herself for missing such an obvious thing while blinded by Chrollo's appearance. She didn't know what to expect when she opened the door and rejoined the throng of people leisurely walking between stores. When he continued to trail a few steps behind her, she wished she could say she was surprised. The interaction would have been too easy if he left after such a short exchange.

"I have a request," he said, his voice irritatingly gaining her immediate attention. Low, calm, and authoritative, yet also polite, he had a nice voice; deceptively soothing, almost- an awful thing considering she might as well be a hostage to his interest in Fanghe's item. Something about his entire person was magnetic. She paused long enough for him to be walking at her side again. "I want your assistance finding someone."

After a sideways glance, she blinked in exasperation. He seemed serious. His word choice, he _wanted_ not _needed_ , her help. Another ploy to see Nemmi, Chrollo abnormally interested in him judging his intense appraisal earlier. Maybe he just wanted a demonstration of how she had found their hideout. In any case, anything she accomplished was an inconsequential bonus to him.

"I only found Hisoka because of that picture and my familiarity with him." A lie. She had only used the picture, but she didn't want to look for someone with only some vague description in mind. Nemmi and vague orders always resulted in disaster.

"Then," he began, retrieving a scrap of paper from his pocket, "will this be enough?" He passed her a photo, Lan unreasonably careful to avoid brushing his hand. An electric-blue-haired girl dressed in pink, a few people flanking her in the background, made up the photo. "Her bodyguards are Nen-users, as is she. They should be in the immediate area, near Ringon Airport and the Beitacle Hotel."

She looked at him again, catching what she would call smugness in his expression. He already had all the information he needed to find this girl on his own. He had, in fact, asked just to see Nemmi. "Whatever," she muttered in reluctant compliance, holding the photo so Nemmi could see. The bird never left In, but Chrollo seemed confident enough to not use Gyo, instead just analyzing her actions and anything displaced by Nemmi's presence. Sadly, impressively, his skill undoubtedly backed up his attitude. She'd love to see him fight, to see his Nen, whatever it may be, in use…

Nemmi shuffled once he had the photo memorized. Before sending him off, she decided she wanted to get this over as quickly as possible, even if it did reveal one more aspect about Nemmi to curious Chrollo- his concentration bordered on terrifying with how he seemed to be dissecting her every move. She poured more Nen into Nemmi with a quick burst of her aura. The added energy marginally increased his size away from an average crow to something that could become monstrous. With a final screech in Chrollo's direction, he took off, flying a few meters above the heads of unsuspecting pedestrians. Every thirty meters, he used En. It would take longer to find a human than a building, especially if she refused to use En. If only she had been using En when searching for Hisoka… No way could she have missed a room full of Spiders with it.

In any case, until Nemmi found this girl, she had unwanted company walking at her side.

She tersely returned the photo to him, refusing to meet his captivating eyes. Seriously, she worried she would stare a socially unacceptable amount. Hisoka was more forgiving of her lacking social graces than most… Mainly because his were also questionable.

"This must not be your only ability," Chrollo began after a precious few moments of silence, still watching flickers of Nemmi between techniques- stubborn crow kept using In in attempt to avoid Chrollo's sight. "Feitan described your aura as metallic and flexible, like a blade that changes shape." Tattletale. While she tried to ignore his prodding, she stole a glance. This time she was sure she caught a slight upturn to his lips at her suspicion. "Is that secondary ability meant to be offensive? I would assume it is because Nemmi is solely for reconnaissance. It would be too cumbersome in battle given how you don't have direct control over it."

"I'm not going to explain how it works," she finally said, his statements questions that he wanted her to either confirm or deny. He had most of it figured out already… His version of small talk was weird indeed. It's not like he needed an advantage over her. He could know nothing about her Nen and still crush her into a fine paste. "Who would?" _And why bother asking other than to get on my nerves?_

"You would be surprised."

The comment had her staring at him again, searching for the meaning behind his words. He made it sound as much of a light joke as a veiled omen. Eventually, she rolled her eyes, fighting a smile at his subtle smirk for making her agonize over a four-word sentence; the smartass, he found her suspicion abnormally amusing. He dropped the subject of her Nen. For now.

"Is there something you're hoping to win at the auction?"

And back to prying inquires disguised as innocent small talk. If she responded to half the things he asked, she was sure she would have accidentally dug herself into a pit. Maybe Hisoka was good for something. He made her dodge questions with ridiculous lies all the time.

"A few blacklist targets," she outright lied, knowing full well Chrollo had gone through her phone. All the research data and animal pictures in no way hid her actual interests. She could tell jokes too. "Not much else going on tonight anyways, right?" Her eyes narrowed fractionally, voice taking an edge. "Are you attending as well?" No way would she allow Auntie to go to the auction if the Troupe was planning a second attack.

"I am." Simple and to the point, his response hung ominously in the air as silence settled between them.

Chrollo… He made her nervous.

Hisoka nearly always looked menacing in his perpetual cheer, his smile a warning to oncoming catastrophes and pranks. Yet there was a sort of honesty in that. Nothing he said could be taken at face-value. She knew to be constantly wary of him, and he made it easy to do so- even if she failed to act with appropriate suspicion at times, stupidly wanting to give him a chance to prove himself trustworthy.

Chrollo did something much worse.

He looked unassuming. Right now, wearing a suit, his hair loose and falling onto his forehead, he almost looked innocently cute. Almost like he didn't have a group of thieves ready to commit massacres at his command. Even at the base, dressing the part of Danchou of the Phantom Troupe, his expression only revealed what he wanted, his intentions well-hidden when necessary. His deceptive appeal, it could make her relax against her will, force her to unwittingly drop her guard. Like how intricately beautiful webs housed waiting predators…

The fact he knew more about her past than she did made him even more unsettling.

Yet also incredible. Everything that made him terrifying made him amazing. The way he could slightly alter his appearance and mannerisms to disguise his intentions while putting someone even as flitty as her at ease with a few polite words, it was envious. How dominatingly powerful and charismatic he must be to keep a vicious group of bandits under control. Forget how intelligent he was. He saw her _once_ , deduced her relationship to Fanghe, already had knowledge of the Fan Shi and the Paijin, and devised some plan to get the Nen-item by using her- and she couldn't imagine that plan failing. She hated to think how much he knew about Nemmi after seeing him only twice. Also fearless considering he was provoking mafia groups from around the world with just thirteen people. Just… _damn_. No wonder Hisoka would risk angering the entire Troupe just for the opportunity to fight Chrollo. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if he joined the Troupe for that reason alone. And still, his actions almost seemed _rational_ because of how positively stunning Chrollo was.

"Your stare could rival Hisoka's."

Lan's eyes shot to the ground, her cheeks warm. She didn't even remember when she began staring at him… And what he said smacked her across the face. Hard. _Hisoka_ looked at Chrollo this way. She almost felt like apologizing to the guy because Hisoka looked at things he liked like… like drool-inducing pieces of meat he was going to do more to than just eat. She… she was picking up his habits. What an awful realization… Next, she would be moaning at blood and humming in delight at her injuries.

The silence became fantastically awkward. Nemmi had yet to locate the girl, too, leaving her to suffer with her new _friend_.

"What do you need the girl for?" she asked, deciding to start her own conversation to distract herself from her embarrassment.

"Are you concerned for her?" His causal tone made it sound as if he was talking about a minor change in the weather rather than the life and death of someone. Maybe it was that mundane to him.

"Just curious." Truthfully, she couldn't care less about the girl. Lan was more concerned about her own fate. Answering a question with a question, he didn't seem to want to share his plans. "Wondering if you usually go around picking up younger girls like this," she added jokingly, dismissively. The girl in the picture could only be a few years younger than Lan. And Chrollo… she couldn't tell how old he was, honestly. Probably younger than Hisoka, but not by much. Her tastes were as questionable as ever.

"No," he responded, unexpectantly continuing with, "It has become a rather odd week."

"Odd?" What did the leader of the Phantom Troupe consider to be an odd week? Had to be something outrageous.

"The death of a Spider tends to be surprising."

Lan fell a step behind with the change in his demeanor. His voice took an almost bitter edge, his eyes fixed forward while slightly narrowed, the death bothered him. It bothered him a lot if it truly cracked his emotionless mask. He hadn't been completely joking earlier, then. The Troupe had an actual opening. As oddly flattering as it was for him to ask, even if he hadn't been serious, for one of them to die…

"Who could even manage that?" she mumbled in a mix of confused wonder. She held them at near deity status; for someone else to be more powerful, she couldn't even begin to imagine it. She wondered which one had died…

"Someone in the mafia, shockingly enough."

Everything fell into place. The auction tonight wasn't just about stealing. It would become a bloodbath in the name of that lost member, the Spiders mourning through a vengeful massacre. She didn't expect any sentimentality between them, but… What else would this be based on Chrollo's reaction? Even if he faked the reaction, the girl, she had Nen-users acting as her bodyguards. She was important enough to protect and probably connected to the mafia. It all added together somehow.

"I would reconsider attending tonight."

"I…" Lan pulled at her sleeve. "Yeah." Message received. Even if he wanted her alive, he wouldn't guarantee her survival if his rampaging Spiders caught her in the crossfire. She believed that, at least.

His warning left a heavy silence in its wake.

After another five minutes, Nemmi began circling above a sizable shopping center. The following moment he flew back and forth alongside one side of the building, narrowing her location further. She stopped walking. Chrollo stood at her side, understanding what the sudden lack of En meant.

"Third floor, east side of the building," she reported as Nemmi perched on her left shoulder. He bobbed his head twice. "Two bodyguards." Nemmi returned to glaring at Chrollo, having nothing else to share. "Tha-"

A hand on her right shoulder killed her words. She stared, her brain scrambling with the sudden overload of conflicting information. Nemmi clacked his beak, feather's rising, a feral squawk ready to burst from his throat.

Chrollo smiled brightly, cheerfully saying, "You've been very helpful, Lanfen." He gave gentle squeeze to her shoulder, adding, "Thank you."

Then he just… Just walked away like he didn't swap personalities with his complete opposite. If she hadn't met him before, spoken with him for a time beforehand, known he was the damn leader of the Phantom Troupe, she might have believed his act. That just… And he still threw her for a loop despite her knowing better!

Turning on her heel, now in a huff, she jammed her hands into her cardigan pockets to stalk off.

"Wha-?"

Empty. Why was her left pocket empty? Panicked, she desperately felt around both her pockets, patting herself down. She only found her phone in her right pocket so where… Where was her wallet!?

"No, no, no, no!" Her cash. Her auction pass. Her fucking Hunter License. She could not have lost her damn wallet! She swore it was there when she left the café. She would have noticed some pickpocket bumping into her, already on high alert with Chrollo walking beside her.

…

Chrollo.

The hand on her shoulder. The smile on his face. All simple misdirection _as he took her damn wallet_. She whipped around, malice and rage overtaking her aura. Despite the concentrated bloodlust aimed at him, his only reaction was a lazy glance over his shoulder, amusement in his eyes at her outburst. He disappeared into the building as if daring her to act on her anger. But she… she couldn't just go after him and demand him to give it back, right? He took if for a reason, right? This hadn't been some damn whim, right!?

Livid didn't begin to describe how her boiling blood felt. At Chrollo and herself. Not only did she fail to notice him taking her wallet out of her pocket, Nemmi did as well. His flawless theft by such simple means _impressed_ her. It was like being elbowed in the face by Hisoka all over again, equal parts infuriating and impressive.

But she didn't have time to marvel and curse at charming thieves.

Auction pass. She needed an auction pass because like hell she would let Auntie go alone. The stubborn woman would try. And Lan had a hard time saying no to her, especially without proper explanations, and forget using force. With the Phantom Troupe planning an even worse attack than the night of the first auction… If absolutely necessary, she might have to admit that her injured hand was the result of meeting the Troupe. That she was now their pawn in obtaining Fanghe's item- a horrible realization, as she got her half-hearted survival guarantee from another glorified liar.

"Nemmi, find anyone that looks mafia." She would have to steal a replacement. Nemmi gave an apologetic chirp and head tilt, feeling at fault for what happened. "We both messed up," she mumbled in hollow reassurance to their combined idiocy. In reality, this was all on her. "If you can grab their wallets without causing a giant scene, go for it." Stealing from people unable to use Nen, Nemmi was exceedingly good at it. They could at least recover a pass in the next few hours. If not in the streets, then in the high-end hotels nearby. Nemmi reluctantly took off, sensing her down spiraling mood as admiration and adrenaline faded with Chrollo's absence.

What hid beneath anger… What left a pit in her stomach… What made her pride hold back what could potentially become tears…

Her Hunter License was gone.

Aside from begging Chrollo to return it, which he might not do even with pathetic groveling, she had no idea how to get it back. She couldn't fight him for it. She had severe doubts about being able to steal it back from the leader of renowned thieves. Even if he sold it, tracking it down without the Hunter site's help…

This week just kept getting worse with each passing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter was very different from my original outline. Right before I had started working on it, the idea struck "what if Chrollo stole all her stuff like the little thief he is?" I know its my story, and this weird to say, but I love this chapter. Have since writing it... two years ago. Ah, the days of two-week updates, I miss you and my free time dearly. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the start of the Yorknew arc!


	15. Invitation: Of Schemes and Betrayals

Lan held her phone to her ear, almost praying it went to voicemail. She concluded the only way to maybe get her License back was to enlist some help, and she only had so many people that were _maybe_ willing to do that.

"Hey," Morel answered, sending Lan into a mild depression. Things didn't get more embarrassing than asking a One-Star Hunter to help fix her stupid mistakes. "Need something?" He already sounded suspicious. Probably because she rarely called. If she had sent a text, though, he would have just called to properly reprimand her anyway.

"Hey, ah…" She shifted her weight, not wanting to admit her catastrophic error.

"Lanfen, what did you do this time?" Get bit while playing with a whale-paralyzer snake one time and suddenly you're always in trouble for doing stupid things… Morel should be more suspicious of Knuckle. He tried to cuddle a porcupine seal.

"Well…" She trailed off again. She hoped he didn't ask too many question. There was no way she could explain the situation without sounding like she involved in some very unsavory matters. Because she was. "My license got stolen," she spat out quickly, nearly wincing at her high pitched squeak.

In the prolonged silence, she chewed on her lip, imagining the disapproving look on Morel's face.

"You're an idiot."

"I'm aware." Oh, she knew she was stupid. She really didn't need it pointed out to her.

"Lanfen, I swear, if we are late for the auction," Auntie complained behind her, tapping her foot on the ground as her eyes scanned for their ride. That she had called herself. Because Lan had lied about doing so an hour ago. She tried to warn her but here they were, about to go to the auction.

"How did you manage this?" Morel asked, Lan's attention back on the call.

'Chrollo Lucilfer, leader of the Phantom Troupe, personally took it from my pocket after informing me I'm his hostage,' seemed like a highly inappropriate answer that would lead to a slough uncomfortable questions. "Pickpocket?" She cursed the inflection in her voice.

"A pickpocket?" The word _dubious_ didn't do his tone justice.

"Yeah."

"Why are you two such morons sometimes?" he grumbled. She wondered what stupid thing Knuckle did today to frustrate their teacher. "I can keep an eye out for it using the Hunter Site, see if it turns up in any auctions or for sale anywhere. You should consider contacting a Hunter that specializes in finding things as well."

'With what money?' she almost asked. Most of her money was in an account attached to her license. She doubted Chrollo would be nice enough to _not_ drain her cash. A thief was a thief, even if he was like the king of thieves. She shook her head, trying to dismiss her conflicting thoughts on Chrollo. Again. The endless loop of irritation and admiration made her head spin. He was as bad as Hisoka- and she wasn't very pleased with the magician, either.

"Thank you," she said, remembering to be grateful that Morel had agreed without prying. Now she just needed to get Knuckle to help her find jobs in the meantime… She already knew Shoot would refuse to be her secretary.

"Yeah." Morel paused, likely considering his odd apprentices, before saying, "I'm starting to think I go too easy on you guys."

"Probably." Morel's combat training was strenuous, relentless, and arduous enough to break the weak-willed, scare them away from being a Hunter all together, but he cared about his students. About a lot of things. He let them get away with a lot of dumb stuff because he had a soft spot for them all. Even her, apparently. "We _are_ idiots." She… she felt like she made the right decision for once. In becoming a Poacher Hunter that worked in conjunction with them. She still kept secrets from them, of course, but…

"At least you're learning," he said with a slight chuckle. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Bye, then."

The call ended, Lan shoved her phone into her pocket. If they, by some miracle, made it to an _uncancelled_ auction, she would have to smuggle it in or give it to Nemmi for safekeeping… Otherwise she would be bored to death listening to the bidding process.

"Finally," Auntie sighed as headlights came into view, "he's here." She stepped forward eagerly, feet on the edge of the sidewalk. The classic mafia-black car with heavily tinted windows stopped in front of them. Before the driver could politely come open the door for his temporary employers, Auntie shuffled in. "We'll miss the preview at this rate."

Lan walked around to the other side of the vehicle, sitting behind the driver, slamming the door hard enough she almost broke it. Nemmi hopped into the front seat while the driver glared over his shoulder at her. Stupid mafia underling… She glared back at him, malice-laced aura making him whip around. He pulled away from the curb, wordlessly beginning the drive to the nearby Cemetery Building- an awfully apt name considering what was about to happen there.

"I still think this a horrible idea," she mumbled for the hundredth time tonight. She spent an hour trying to convince Auntie of how terrible an idea this was, but…

"Lanfen," Auntie said, patience for this conversation long gone, "there are very few things I want, and this vase is one of them." She crossed her arms over her chest, pronounced frown wrinkling her face as she glared at the front seat. "And calm down. I heard that the Dons hired assassins to prevent another attack."

Like that was reassuring. Hisoka alone could wipe out an army of mafia-caliber assassins. "Auntie, the only assassins that _might_ stand a chance against these people are the Zoldycks." They both had a begrudging respect for the assassins, seeing as they had killed Fanghe. She wondered if the Dons would even be willing to pay the assassin family's ridiculous fees. Apparently, Fanghe bankrupted the Paijin _and_ Fan Shi by hiring the Zoldycks.

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"Have you met the Troupe?" Really, Lan felt she wasn't being dramatic enough.

"Have you?" Auntie shot back. Lan sighed, although more in exasperation than defeat, redirecting her attention out the window. She hoped she played off the question well enough. She couldn't imagine the lecture Auntie might give her for playing with Spiders, for consistently chasing after a member, and for ogling the leader. "I know you're upset about being robbed," Auntie added, voice softening a touch before becoming seeped with finality again, "but please drop the attitude. We're going."

Lan leaned back into the seat, trying to keep her mouth shut. Arguing had not kept them from going to the auction, and it would only further irritate them. Eventually, they crossed the security checkpoint after showing their auction passes. A nice man kindly supplied her one right from his wallet- as well as a few thousand in cash. Even if it hadn't taken long to find a replacement pass, she was still livid about the first. And her license. Damn Chrollo and his nimble fingers and his distracting face…

Today… The last three days, actually, had stretched the limits of her patience paper thin. Adequately frustrated and on edge, she needed something to take her anger out on that wasn't Auntie. Preferably soon. If she believed Hisoka wasn't out terrorizing the mafia with the other Spiders, she might have called him to rant- though he often added to her frustrations, she couldn't complain in detail to anyone else. He would have absolutely adored hearing about how badly she wanted to tear him apart for involving her in this mess with the Troupe. They could have gushed over amazingly irritating Chrollo together, too…

Hisoka had let his curiosity take over enough to ask her what Chrollo had wanted. That man, he had pouted through emojis when she told him 'nothing interesting.' If he let her vent her frustrations, gave her some information about Chrollo, she might be willing to give him a bit more of an explanation. Otherwise, the less he knew about her, the better.

The crackling of the driver's radio, the cut-off screams on the other end, perked Lan up. An explosion lighting the nighttime sky red overtook the rounds of pointless gunfire. The driver jerked the wheel in a hard right, an ambulance of all things barreling by.

"What in-" Auntie began as the driver looked over his shoulder.

A spray of blood almost painted the windshield over. "Damn it, Nemmi," Lan grumbled, already leaned over the front seat, hand on the wheel to keep the car from veering off the road. "You know necks spray blood, you idiot!" He squawked indignantly before fiddling with the door handle. The second it flew open, Lan crawled into the passenger seat, kicking the body out before more blood pooled in the driver's side. Sitting in a warm puddle of someone else's blood... Disgusting but necessary. Her face scrunched as she settled into her new spot. She took the wheel, pulling the wildest U-turn her driver-license-less self could. "Go sit in back," she told the chiding bird on her lap. He complied but kept complaining noisily. He didn't need to be saying 'I told you so,' to her.

Auntie sighed behind her. "Do you remember ruining my car like this? I certainly do." At least she didn't comment about wanting to go the auction. The continual explosions must have convinced her that all the assassins and henchmen in the world couldn't keep everyone safe from the Phantom Troupe. She also didn't bring up the morality of killing someone for being in the way. Or that an 'invisible force' slit a throat open. Or that Lan was talking to herself again. Still, bringing this up did nothing to improve her mood.

"I was like twelve," Lan nearly whined. She just wouldn't let the incident die. "It's not my fault he was making passes at me while holding a gun to my head. A _rhino-otter ivory handled_ gun." Nemmi _still_ didn't understand that the jugular spewed fountains. Angry twelve-year-olds shouldn't have Nen at their disposal, either. "And you let him in the car," she mumbled, displacing the blame for staining Auntie's car seats.

"Lanfen, you know damn well that was a car-jacking."

Lan held her tongue, concentrating on dodging the cars driving towards the massacre like lemmings over a cliff. They could have just run the guy over like she had suggested, but, again, Auntie didn't understand that Nen beat bullets. She had been worried about Lan getting shot as the guy tried to use her as a bargaining chip. Maybe that's why being a hostage annoyed her so much… Or one of the many reasons. She didn't like feeling trapped in any sense of the word. She preferred having control over her life.

Suddenly, she felt her pocket buzzing against her side. She also had three cars nearly crash into her, one side-swiping them to take pff a mirror. Her phone kept ringing. A few stray bullets struck the hood. Still ringing.

"Answer this for me," she said while working her phone out of her pocket.

"Watch the road!" Auntie screeched as Lan almost veered into a parked car. Maybe driving a hundred and sixty while distracted wasn't the solution. Auntie grabbed the phone rather quickly when Lan refused to get both hands back on the wheel until she answered. "There is a reason you don't have a license," she said under her breath. "You want it on speaker, right? Which button is that again?"

"It's _labeled_ speaker." Lan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Auntie needed to get an actual cellphone already. The brick from ten years ago was more than obsolete; it was a miracle that thing even functioned…

"Hello, fledgling." His sing-song voice made her heart skip a beat. "I'm ready to take you on that date you've been wanting."

Her eyes widened, sparkling grin trying to fight its way onto her face. "Rea-"

Crunching metal and squealing tires. The other car spun-out, slamming into a wall with a second horrendous crash. Their car skidded to a halt, front tire blown, driver's side smashed in with smoke pouring out. Lan released the bent steering wheel, her grip the only thing that kept her from launching through the windshield. Auntie muttered about her life flashing before her eyes as she unbuckled. Lan picked her phone off the floor where it flew. Not broken. Still on too. She swore she heard Hisoka stifling laughter.

"One moment," she flatly said to him, kicking her broken door open as she took her phone off of speaker, holding it at her side so he didn't distract her again.

She all but tore the rear door off when it refused to budge. Auntie gave her a look as she crawled out, always a bit shocked to see her niece tearing through metal like paper. Again, Auntie had a disconnect between what Nen-users were capable of and what the average person could do. Nemmi hopped onto Lan's shoulder, snapping his beak together, equally displeased with her driving.

"You okay?" She held Auntie's arm to steady her as she stumbled away from the wreckage. People in their sixties didn't always fare well in car crashes, even if just jarred by the impact, Lan realized a bit too late. She should have been more careful. Maybe she was the one with a disconnect…

"Just a bit shaken, is all." Auntie leaned against a nearby building, catching her breath as she clutched the end of her shawl in a shaking white-knuckle grip. No blood or bone showing, she didn't appear hurt… Scared, yes, but not harmed. Not in much pain, either, although she would probably bruise from the seatbelt. Lan trusted her to say if she needed to go to a hospital or not, though. "You hit the steering wheel. Are you okay, dear?"

"Yeah." Her reaction time kept the crash from becoming a head-on collision, at least. Too bad the car couldn't move out of the way as fast as she had wanted. They seemed to be far enough away from the Cemetery Building to be out of the immediate warpath. "I'll get another car, so just rest here a moment." She glanced around, no mafia-issue cars barreling down the street, leaving a single parked civilian vehicle across from them. She should really learn how to hotwire vehicles… "Nemmi, go look around."

As soon as he left her shoulder, she held her phone back to her ear, remembering the reason for the crash.

"You were saying?"

"My, my, you are a terrible driver, aren't you?" Hisoka chuckled a few times more before his tone lowered, becoming nearly seductive. "But don't you look absolutely ravishing in that dress, darling. Mind wearing that to our date?" She froze, realizing he was hiding close by. Her eyes searched for him, scanning every shadowy corner for bright red hair and pastel green shirt. "Look up," he helpfully supplied, cheeky smile apparent in his voice. As soon as her eyes found him standing at the edge of a tall building, he waved at her. He certainly wasn't in mourning.

"When and where?" she demanded, enthusiasm not well-hidden. She was not about to be embarrassed about her attire and driving when he tempted her with a rematch.

"Whenever we're done here," he said, hand sweeping to the side, gesturing to the explosions and smoke plumes, "I will text you. We can meet somewhere near the hideout. And Lan." The way he said her name, no teasing undertones hidden in his voice as his tone lowered to seriousness, it sent a chill down her spine. "I _promise_ to be there waiting."

"You're serious?" she asked, the question slipping past her lips before her brain could silence it. She shouldn't let her fondness for promises be so obvious to the master of breaking them.

"Very," he reassured, voice laced with concerning desire. "I'm ready for more than a taste of you, my little forbidden fruit."

Lan swallowed thickly, not sure where the teasing ended and the threatening promise began, the implications unsettling. He truly had moved into a bizarre gray area between wanting murder and sex. That… that was disturbing to think about. She didn't like having to worry about her corpse being desecrated. Or, worse, her half-corpse.

The disconcerting nature of his desire conflicted with the excitement welling in her chest. In only a few months, it would be the two-year anniversary of their first fight. To finally have a rematch, to finally prove her strength to herself and to someone so inhumanly powerful, to fulfill a goal she had long fixated on achieving, it made her aura stir with an odd combination of bloodlust and anticipatory satisfaction. The fact his aura returned an intensified emotion so near her own made the silent moment in the midst of a massacre surreal. She wished they were closer, that she could clearly see the glinting gold of his eyes as explosions tinted the sky red. She wanted to know if she had the same look, if they really were so concerningly, terrifyingly similar.

The screech of tires accompanied by shattering glass broke her concentration. A few buildings away, a car skidded to a stop, a man covered in slashes stumbling out of the vehicle as he fled from the invisible bird tearing him asunder. Glancing at the damage, she regretted not giving more finite orders. Nemmi had made an absolute mess. At least he stayed in the car, hidden from Hisoka's observant eyes.

The lone henchman shuffled towards her, gun shaking in his hands, panic-stricken as everyone he knew died around him, his last associates cut apart by some avenging phantom. A card impaled the back of his skull. He stumbled a final few steps before collapsing in a useless pile.

Her eyes drifted back to the ledge. Hisoka now sat comfortably on the edge, starting a precariously placed house of cards. He didn't seem to care to participate in the Phantom Troupe's requiem for a fallen ally. "Off you go," he shooed when she stood in place. "You're just in the way here, fledgling. Drive directly south. That should help even you avoid more obstacles."

"Your concern is touching," she mumbled, his words mocking and encouraging. He wanted her out of the way of the Troupe, so she didn't get hurt… because he wanted to cut her apart himself. She almost trusted his invitation to be genuine this time, if only for the warped reasoning behind his questionable concern. "I'll see you later, Hisoka."

"But of course."

She dropped her arm to her side as she ended the call, stealing a final glimpse of him and his cards before turning her attention back to Auntie. Lan almost sighed at the look Auntie had, her eyebrow quirked, eyes sparkling with questions about what had just happened.

"Just… wait until we're in the car." Lan whipped around, stalking towards the vehicle. Pulling out the limp, bloodied bodies of three other mafia thugs grated on her nerves. Nemmi sitting proudly on the headrest, watch in his beak, made her roll her eyes. "Shiny, huh?" He flapped his wings, not relinquishing his prize. Her subconscious was too good at superimposing typical crow behaviors onto Nemmi. Her Nen should not be stealing random watches because they were shiny.

Once she had the bodies tossed aside, glass swept off the front seats, she got in. She pulled up to the curb, Auntie crawling in and buckling up beside her.

The silence lasted only a second before Auntie couldn't restrain herself any longer.

"Was that your _friend_?" Auntie tried to hide excitement beneath suspicion, but she was unfortunately as good at that as Lan. "What was his name? I didn't catch it. And where did you meet?"

Lan sighed, keeping her eyes on the road so she didn't repeat her earlier mistake. "Yes. Hisoka. Hunter Exam." Short responses should have made it obvious that she would prefer to not talk about him. It also kept her from divulging too much on accident. She could already tell where Auntie's mind went…

"Is he handsome?"

She blankly stared forward, his face -his stupid, mischievous, smirking, face- forcing its way into her thoughts like a reoccurring nightmare. Her initial response would be an enthusiastic, if regrettable, 'yes.' Auntie wouldn't think so. At least not with all the make-up caked onto his face and his clownish clothes. She'd definitely find his personality revolting. "Sure," she eventually responded, feeling Auntie's glimmering eyes burning a hole in her.

Auntie pounced on the opportunity to keep her talking. This was the most Lan had offered to tell her about this _friend_ capable of convincing her to go onto international television and remind the Fan Shi she even existed. "What's he like?"

"Annoying." 'With a certain psychotic, predatorial charm I seem to like,' she added mentally. Lan hated thinking of him this way, even if it was the truth. Auntie had realized that Lan had her version of a 'crush' on him. She felt like a ridiculous, infatuated teenager. Except, again, she …liked… a homicidal manic liable to kill her.

"Is he the one you mentioned meeting earlier?"

Lan stifled a laugh. She forgot that she had mentioned meeting someone before getting robbed. "No." They were two similar, yet very different, people. "But they are associates," she added, now playing in half-truths so Auntie felt like she knew something. That, and simplifying the situation to her merely dating two regular guys was hilariously far from chaotic reality. "His boss, in fact."

"Lanfen," Auntie admonished, "two-timing is a dangerous thing."

Lan tried to fight back a smile as she thought _you have no idea_. She found herself in a weird, precarious position. Chrollo wanted her alive to find the item. Hisoka wanted to fight her, maybe do a bit more, before eventually killing her. Then there was the complicating matter of Hisoka's consuming desire to fight Chrollo. When he inevitably betrayed the Phantom Troupe, Hisoka's little house of cards would come crashing down on top of her while he had the time of his life. She needed to find a way to come out of this alive…

"When we get a bit further away," Lan began, changing subjects from her dismal fate, "we'll have to ditch the car and walk back to the hotel." She couldn't imagine transportation services were running while the auction fell into complete chaos. Diving a car littered with bullet holes, window shattered, and interior stained with blood would be asking for trouble. Hilariously, they might mistake her for a member of the Troupe. The police were in the mafia's pocket here, too, after all. "Then I'm going to change and go out on my _date_." Because she was going no matter the consequences. If he killed her tonight, she might at least avoid some Troupe-induced misery. Not that she wanted die. If anything, she wanted to take her frustration out on the bastard for involving her in this disaster. For playing with her life. For taking control from her.

"That dress would have been perfect for a date if it wasn't covered in blood." Auntie sighed longingly, the nostalgic past about to come spilling out again. "You used to enjoy wearing pretty dresses. What happened to that?"

"I was like thirteen." And not fighting perverted magicians in dark alleys surrounded by abandoned buildings.

"At least this isn't your goth phase again," Auntie mumbled, Lan aiming a glare at her despite the risk of wrecking yet another car. Don't get her wrong, she still appreciated the aesthetic. What made the time mortifying was how her angsty teenaged self had acted. "I'm sorry to say, but you are not a poet."

"Leave me alone," Lan whispered, slumping in the seat. She could hear Nemmi cackling at her. The two could be lighthearted for now, because later…

Hisoka was definitely a lucky man. She was all sorts of irritated and on edge, her anger starting to leach out of the corner that she had shoved it in. All of her rage would be his tonight. No restraint, no hesitation, she would be aiming to maim, if not kill, that bastard in vengeful repayment for involving her in this game. Every scrap of her strength would go towards proving her potential to her judge. After all, what did she have to lose? Her life was forfeit at this point. She could dedicate _everything_ to Hisoka. If her everything wasn't enough to convince him to save her from the web he tangled her in, then she would desperately struggle to cut herself free, taking him with her in petty revenge.

A twitchy smile kept trying to force its way across her lips despite her shaking hands. This was the resolve she would need to face him, her deadly and passionate mistake.

* * *

"This is what she looks like now."

Minji glanced to the two behind her. The computer in front of them displayed two pictures: one of Lanfen as she had appeared in Heaven's Arena, the other of her conspicuously dressed like Fanghe.

Circe had a ridiculous grin on her face, obviously finding Lanfen's disguise hilarious. Minji almost smiled back, but this was strictly business today. "She looks exactly like Libao," Circe commented, holding back a snicker. "It's like seeing him dressed up like Fanghe, and that's just a priceless thought. And how adorable, she drew on some moles where Jingyi had them!"

Sybil wore a very different expression, vacancy giving way to excitement. "I know her!" She pointed at the left side of the screen to the Fanghe look-a-like. "She took the Hunter Exam last year when I was an examiner!" Minji wished she could say she was surprised that Sybil had missed something so important. Knowing Lanfen was alive two years ago would have been nice.

Circe leaned onto the back of Minji's chair, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Sybil snapped. "Her face was, like, messed up. Had this massive bruise when I actually got a closer look at her. And there was this super distracting guy th-"

"Didn't you leave during the exam to go chase after Chrollo?" Circe was instigating again, making Minji want to sigh. The two should recognize this was a serious meeting. She should have known. Right now, the two couldn't be in the same room without Circe picking on her for the biggest blunder of her life.

"He had nothing to do with it!" Sybil's aura flared up at the name and accusation. Cold tentacles and slime, it was as unpleasant as ever. Minji wished Circe would stop doing this. Sybil's temper derailed conversations enough without Circe's prodding. "Her face was swollen, idiot!" Sybil crossed her arms over her chest, attention back on the screen to ignore her sister. "Lanfen must not be that bright, dressing up like Fanghe. Of course we would notice her."

"But you di-"

"It might have worked in her favor," Minji said over Circe, hoping to get back to business. It had taken long enough to track Sybil down to use her Hunter License. Never mind Minji's slight hesitance in involving Sybil. She had a terrible record when it came to keeping secrets. He hadn't created the Phantom Troupe at that point, but Chrollo Lucilfer had never been someone to cross. Or, in Sybil's case, overshare information with. "Had I not seen her at the arena, she could have disappeared again after leaving behind this disguise. Now…" Minji brought up the other information she had found. "These are her associates."

"Hey, he was an examiner too." Sybil pointed to the first picture on screen. "Morel Makernasey. A One-Star Hunter. Studies the ocean or something; never bothered to learn more."

"Those two are his pupils?" Circe leaned closer, chin resting on Minji's head as she actually bothered reading the information displayed. She absently played with Minji's hair; again, this was not the time. These two were so frustrating. "They're probably not half-bad fighters if they have a One-Star Hunter as a teacher. Think Lanfen is a third student?"

"Considering the few known associates I came across, that is likely the case." Minji took her phone out, sending a link to the video of Lanfen in Heaven's Arena to Circe. She could be trusted with it. The only reason she neglected sharing it with Circe for so long was that Minji had been unsure of what action to take after Joan got involved. He recognized sharing this with the rest of the Fan Shi might result in Lanfen's accidental death. This was his redemption for the first fiasco, so he tried to keep the video a secret while investigating on his own until he decided what action to take.

"Wait!" Sybil pushed the chair -as well as Minji and Circe- to the side to get closer to the computer. The grin on her face and the nauseating excitement in her aura… Her eyes sparkled at the image on screen. She didn't even notice the sharp glare Circe aimed at her. "I call fighting him. This…" she squinted as she read the name, "Hisoka. He took the exam at the same time as Lanfen. Trying to challenge me, I'll make him regret that. I'm going to…"

"He's almost a floor master," Circe commented while Sybil drooled over the idea of pulling the man apart.

"He might prove an issue," Minji confirmed, narrowing her eye. The only information on him came from Heaven's Arena. She had also watched his fight with Kastro out of curiosity- Lanfen had shouted his name during her match, after all. A few of the Fan Shi could match him strength-wise, but his unorthodox fighting style and Nen could easily overwhelm them if they weren't on constant guard. It had been a while since they had fought such a skilled opponent.

"So, I'm excited hear the game plan." A grin began to curl Circe's lips. "Right, Sybil?"

"Huh?" Her ranting ended abruptly as she processed what was said, her brain getting back to the task at hand. For someone impatient to leave, she kept wasting time. But that was Sybil: a force to be reckoned with in battle, an absolute air-head otherwise. "Oh, yeah, what are we doing about her?"

"I plan to use Virgil as bait."

"We're involving the others?" Circe raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear this coming from Minji. If she had a choice, she wouldn't have involved even Sybil.

"Yes. I will give him permission to steal that restricted insect he has been so excited to have. Lanfen has been acting as both a Blacklist and Poacher Hunter. She will hopefully target him." Virgil, despite his flaws and involvement in the incident at the compound, would be able to handle the situation with some tact.

She would have preferred to send Circe instead, but Joan had become too suspicious. Ever since Adalei told him about the aura she had sensed while making a dumb joke, unwittingly informing him of Lanfen's survival, he questioned why Minji hadn't pieced it together. Using Sybil's license to investigate on her own would only make him more suspicious. Involving Virgil would hopefully quell his concerns enough that he wouldn't threaten to split the Fan Shi again. She still required it.

"If that doesn't work, I found an animal sanctuary Lanfen regularly contributes to." The girl apparently loved animals. In fact, nearly everything she did as a Hunter somehow related back to animals. It's not like they could easily threaten her small list of friends. "Sybil can hold it hostage until Lanfen gives herself up." It might damage her Hunter reputation further, but Sybil was outstanding at taking large numbers of people (or animals, in this case) hostage. A rival gang had once moved into terrorism, creating explosives to threaten a number of mafia business fronts. At the Ten Dons behest, Sybil had taken an entire city district hostage while she hunted down her targets. With minor casualties, even.

"Then," Sybil began, breaking the silence, "I can go to Yorknew now, right? Since my work here is done? I had to ignore the Dons to come help you, you know."

"Don't even pretend that you care about them," Circe pointed out, seeking to create trouble again. "I heard what happened there. You just want to go after Chrollo."

"I-" Sybil's brow twitched as she tried to ignore her sister. "Shut up, Circe," she snapped anyway. "So, can I go?"

Minji handed Sybil her license back, done with it. She couldn't risk Sybil getting killed chasing after the Phantom Troupe. The mafia would also become collateral damage the moment she saw Chrollo- and he was apparently doing a fine job of messing with the mafia himself. Joan would be livid if he lost his mafia connections after finally fostering a relationship with them again.

"No."

The automatic response sent Sybil back into a rage. "Why the-"

"Just give up on Indoor Fish already, Sybil," Circe complained, this circle of frustration almost a decade old at this point. "That brat's never giving it back to you. Shouldn't have let him steal it in the first place."

"Shut up!"

Minji leaned back in defeat, bending a paperclip into flower while the two bickered. Like always. The Fan Shi had become so dysfunctional in Fanghe's absence…

* * *

Hisoka put his phone away, disappointed that Kurapika failed to respond. How was he supposed to take comfort in the bodies being fake if he didn't answer? The Troupe continued their celebration, drinking the finest of wines pilfered from the auction to the cheapest of beers stolen on the way back to the base. Hisoka leaned into the windowsill, not much in the mood for celebration. At least not of this variety.

A shame how things were concluding. His fight with Chrollo may be postponed yet again. The completion of the mission, Chrollo's relative disinterest in finding the Chain User, the Troupe would disperse once more, Chrollo slipping from his grasp another irritating time. Unless he could find a way to keep the Troupe in Yorknew long enough for Kurapika to get his act together, his fated match would be out of reach until the next opportunity arose in who-knows-how-long. Waiting two years had whittled away at Hisoka's patience, and that said a lot, as he liked to think he was an incredibly patient man. Another two years sitting in temptation, he would _really_ prefer to not do that.

That left him to see if he could still salvage his plans to use Kurapika, or if he could use Lan instead.

Darling Lan, Chrollo was interested in her. Enough that he had met up with her without the other Spiders present. Without _Hisoka_ present… When she sent him that text, he had felt rather annoyed, honestly. Perhaps a bit jealous. Lan and Chrollo hanging around each other, he didn't like it. They were his and his alone. They couldn't go off without him. Especially when she refused to share why. But that also wasn't the point. Chrollo wanted something from her, and Hisoka could use that to his advantage.

She could be his invitation. If it was a minor mission, Chrollo would only take two others in addition to Hisoka- maybe just one if Chrollo was in a trusting mood. Breaking one or two legs wasn't out of the question if it meant he could crush the head. Sweet little Lan could even help him.

So, he finally agreed to her rematch. He wanted to fight her again. He also felt a teensy bit frustrated with Chrollo, and what better way to relieve that than by seeking comfort from his dear playmate? Of course, he would have to be careful not to kill her… Chrollo had told him not to. His backup plan would fall apart if he let things get too heated between them. She had improved, but, surely, she wouldn't be that enticing yet. He could control himself. Most of the time. A little rematch with her, his darling fledgling, wouldn't push him over the edge. If anything, it would conclude with her shoved against a wall, her legs around his waist and her nails in his back while she begged him to take her.

…

These intrusive thoughts were getting a bit out of hand. He might soon be thinking about sleeping with her more than killing her, and that was just wrong. Very wrong. He only fantasized about Chrollo this way maybe ten percent of the time, and he was a ten in looks. Lan was maybe a seven, a strong eight when livid. It made no sense to want her more than Chrollo in any regard.

Hisoka pushed himself off the ledge, landing silently below. He must be bored to be thinking this much about nothing. And why sit in boredom when he had his entertaining Lan coming to give him a show?

No one paid him much mind as he stalked towards the exit. Except dear Machi. Her cold eyes met his, a smile instantly across his face. He wordlessly continued walking towards the door. She already knew he had date plans. He had kindly informed her when she came to fetch him earlier- she had been annoyed, even if she hid it oh so well, to see him loafing around instead of adding to the chaos of the massacre. She had no reaction to his plan other than 'don't do something stupid.' Her look now silently repeated the warning. She should be happy. Between paying her to say he had asked her to help Lan and fixing their combined injuries after this date, Machi would be making millions off him.

He walked out of the hideout without further fuss. He had promised to be there to greet her, after all. He didn't intend to go back on this promise, especially now that it served his desires as much as hers.


	16. Repayment and Reassessment: Chaos and Passion

Silent streets echoed with every footstep, the stillness of nighttime air pronounced amid the shadows of abandoned buildings. Her hands at her side, she clenched and unclenched tight fists. Drowning in anticipation of an adrenaline-fueled rush or crushing disappointment buried beneath rage, turmoil churned in her aura no matter her attempts to quell it. Despite the inkling of rational fear, the recognition that she may be walking to her gravesite, her resolve remained firm.

She wanted this.

She understood the risks when she had decided to pursue him. Any delusions she had at making him a friend, as having him as something more, needed to be left behind. It wasn't happening. No matter the inexplicable ache in her chest, it was an undeniable fact that if she lived through this rematch, she would have to distance herself from him. No longer by mere choice, but for survival. Further contact would prove fatal as long as he treated her as expendable, as temporary, as a toy to break. Maybe not immediately, but he would eventually toss her away and move onto someone else. That fickleness and selfishness made him dangerous. It was what she admired about him, yet blind devotion to a dazzling individual, she knew exactly what that earned people in the end. She didn't exist for his entertainment.

A card imbedded in the ground at her feet. Seven of diamonds, she absently noted, feet dragging to a stop in front of the card. Her every muscle tensed. Stepping away from the wall, out of the shadow, Hisoka stood across from her. In a flourished movement, his deck of cards disappeared from sight, a grin tugging at his lips as he took a half-bow.

"Fledgling," he greeted, golden eyes skating over her body appraisingly, hungrily, his aura on edge as his version of excitement leaked through.

"Hisoka," she began, voice forcibly leveled even as her aura began to betray her own enthusiasm, "I hope you're serious this time." She knew the best conclusion to this match would -rationally- be one of their deaths. Preferably Hisoka's. Her preference for a draw, for another pity sparing, she couldn't let that become her goal. Not with the Phantom Troupe after her. Not with her dangerous attachment to Hisoka. It would be for the best, one of them dying.

"Do you need to be reassured, darling?" he cooed, mocking her fondness for promises again. If she didn't know him better, she might think he resented promises. But, no, he thought it was funny she kept believing his empty words despite deliberately breaking her trust at any chance. "Our match is terribly overdue. I'm _dying_ to have you."

"You're the one that put it off," she said under her breath. She slipped off her vest, balling it around her phone before lightly tossing it next to a wall.

As she pulled her sweatshirt over her head, she heard him hum. "Are you about to make my fantasies reality?" he asked, purr in his voice, glinting eyes narrowing as he smiled. She swallowed thickly, understanding his words as a tame preview for what would surely follow as his excitement piqued.

"No." She threw her sweatshirt to the side, leaving her in a sleeveless shirt snug against her skin. The risk of being grabbed by flowing fabric had been dealt with, she hoped. Now for a thousand other factors out of her control… She tucked her hair behind her ear to get it out of the way. "You're making mine, though." A half-lie. What he wanted, she might feel the same if she believed he could differentiate pleasure and pain, if she could trust him to not kill her in a flit of passion. Otherwise, honestly, she might have tried to play dominatrix for him. Actually, hurting him sounded rather therapeutic.

The tip of his tongue ran over his lips at the bloodlust twisting in her aura, spurred on by her own thoughts. "I adore your eyes, Lan. All the confliction, the anger…" He shifted his weight as he placed a hand on his hip, his other arm raised, a sharp-nailed finger beckoning her forward. Her Ren flared, his manic grin growing wider. "Come prove your worth to me."

Lan stood firmly in place. Her mind raced to piece together a strategy, running straight towards him reckless and likely ineffective. There wasn't much to work with… Unlike their last fight in a forest, the empty street had few places to hide, discounting the buildings scattered nearby. She had no knives to throw this time. The only thing the terrain offered in makeshift weaponry were pebbles- and those could serve as a minor distraction at best. She could tear apart a building, maybe collapse one like she had tried to do with Feitan, but luring Hisoka close enough and then keeping him there would be difficult. Creating some debris for cover-

"You're not frightened of me, are you?" The wicked smile crinkling his eyes undermined the innocent offence in his tone. "My little fledgling, there's no need to be hesitant. Just come for me."

Lan bit her lip. He was right. Hesitance killed, and he reveled in unraveling plans. Agonizing over a strategy would only distract her. A general goal, then.

She shot forward, flattening her hand, nails sharpening. A miss. He leaned to the side of a follow-up jab, weaving between strikes as she pushed helplessly forward, nothing landing. Frustration built quickly. Her nails caught the edge of his shirt, the small victory soon lost as his hand reached for her outstretched wrist. Leaping forward, she escaped capture. A flash of movement. A twist of his body. Absolute dread in her chest.

His heel dug into her spine. She stumbled a short distance away, barely keeping on her feet. Her reaction time and Nen kept the hit from snapping her in half. The blow, the strength behind it, panic tried to shake her nerves, admiration fueled envy. He was unbelievably strong. No one else she'd been kicked or punched by compared. But she had to remind herself that this wasn't like last time. She could defend herself now. A single, unprecise strike wouldn't kill her.

"Very good," he cheerfully congratulated as she whipped around to face him again, her feet digging into the ground as her muscles tensed. "I would have been so disappointed if you broke so soon."

Cement buckled as she lunged forward a second time. Aura covered her hand, her aim low, blatantly targeting his thigh. She glimpsed the disapproval in his eyes as he stepped ever-so slightly to the side to dodge last moment. Fingers brushed her neck as they sought the fabric of her shirt. Her feet sunk into the ground to come to a grinding stop before she jumped into his hand, Arri covering her back in a layer of blade-like fur. Hisoka hummed in apparent amusement as blood ran down his arm from several lacerations. Lan rolled forward, springing back to her feet, fighting to turn before-

Lightening quick footsteps, the distance between them covered in a few strides. She evaded a punch to the stomach by a fraction. Hisoka somehow contorted to shift the momentum from the missed strike to spin on his heel, unavoidable kick aimed for her jaw.

Lan raised her arm, his ankle catching on her wrist. The force threatened to knock her from her feet. Ko kept her bones from breaking on impact. As he began to let up to redirect, she dropped her defenses, his expression complacent. He expected her to cover her arm with Arri. Her lips twitched into a betraying smile as her Nen materialized Arri in its full glory. The hulking fox snapped its jaw over his ankle, razor-edge teeth sawing flesh, satisfaction blossoming with drawn blood. He stood awkwardly with a leg trapped in blade-like teeth, and yet….

Hisoka laughed. Even if just a few chuckles, he laughed at Arri, at her Nen. Lan clenched her jaw, bristling, bloodlust lighting Arri with malice-tinged aura. He didn't even try to pull away, infuriating her more. She stood there dumbly and watched, commanding Arri to begin mauling him if that's what it took to wipe that taunting smile from his face. He had nowhere to-

Her eyes went wide as he spun on his heel, slamming Arri into the ground at the cost of more damage to his leg. She fought to keep her balance at the unexpected jerk to her aura. He noticed immediately. In a fractional second, he realized that Arri required her aura to be connected to function, that this wasn't a conjuration or emission technique. Next would be that she had a specific range before her control weakened enough for him to tear away.

He dropped to his hands, vaulting into a flip to drag Arri away with him. She released Arri, switching tactics. As he turned midair, she lunged forward as if to meet him, a hand behind her back. Nemmi dived, aiming to kill. Hisoka kept his attention on her, oblivious. His lack of aura right now, the way he pointed at her earlier… Overconfident bastard didn't consider her using In like he had. Especially when she didn't use Gyo to confirm her suspicions. After slamming the door behind her in Heaven's Arena, in pulling her away from Feitan, she had an idea of how his Nen worked. She could use experience and instinct in place of confirmation for once.

Fighting him really was an amazing way to learn.

Nemmi spread his wings in the final moments of descent. He aimed for Hisoka's neck, wings like a blade across a throat, if he didn't notice… Her feet froze in place, her planned feint lost, hairline fracture in her resolve, but his attention still on her. Another meter and-

His expression shifted. His eyes went directly to Nemmi even without using Gyo, _something_ warning him. Had her gaze given away Nemmi's location? Had he noticed a shift in the air? Some tiny clue saved him, but what? Concentration wavered his grin briefly. Actual surprise? A tug at her chest startled Lan into digging her feet into the ground to keep from flying through the air towards him. Hisoka rocketed towards her instead, somehow redirecting his momentum in the last moment possible. Nen! He was using Nen. He _had_ used In to connect his aura to her.

Nemmi's wing clipped his shoulder.

The spray of blood reminded her that this wasn't over, that she didn't have time to figure out his every trick or marvel at his finesse. Before he reached her, crashed directly into her, she summoned Arri in front of her.

He landed on the ground a few meters away instead. Nen gathered in his eyes. She did the same, releasing Arri before looking to her chest, finding no bubblegum-pink aura clinging to her. He had released his hold… Why? Her eyes darted back to him.

"A bird," he commented, staring up at Nemmi another second before stopping Gyo. Her body went rigid. "Do you actually like the nickname I gave you?" The mock offence and pout…

"I do," she muttered through clenched teeth. If he insisted on calling her by a nickname, fledgling was only moderately insulting and not wholly inappropriate. His usage of belittling endearments had already increased; a new nickname would be even more annoying. Now wasn't the time to be discussing such a flippant topic, though. They were _fighting_. At least she was…

"Hmm…" A hand under his chin, he pretended to consider her answer, a smirk growing as irritation began to seep into her aura. "That hadn't been my intent, but I suppose I've grown rather fond of it myself. I-"

"Hisoka," she warned, not appreciating him rambling while in the middle of their fight. She liked to be taken seriously, especially after having been a few centimeters off from killing him. His eyes sparked at her snippy response. He was trying to upset her.

He held up his hands, vibrantly pink Nen flowing between them. The bastard made a heart with his aura, framing her face, asking, "Did you like my Bungee Gum?" The name made her expression blank. She stopped Gyo as his hands dropped back to his sides, her eyes vacant _because he had told her his ability months ago_. And she gave him some as a gift as an insult to injury. Not to mention she thought _her_ naming abilities were lacking, but Hisoka named his ability after a brand of gum- never mind if it was a childhood favorite of his or not. "It has the properties of both gum and rubber. I can attach to whatever I like and detach it whenever I please."

"How fitting." _But why are you telling me this?_ Sure, she had that impression already, but taking the time to reiterate what she should know… Explaining felt like bragging. Like saying you can know my next move and do nothing about it. Then again, this also reminded her of someone else trying to pry for information.

"And what are yours called, fledgling?"

She began circling around him in impatience. She searched for her next opening, having yet to disable a single limb to slow him down. At this point, she felt like the conversation was a ploy of some sort. Maybe to drop her guard or rile her up. Something meant to make her recklessly charge forward.

"Nemmi," she reluctantly offered, pointing a finger to the sky, hoping to get this over with before idle chatter completely killed her momentum. "And Arri." He seemed disappointed that she didn't share more, but she wasn't about to tell him the embarrassing names younger Lan had decided upon. Spectral Judgment Nemesis and Hunter's Instinct Artemis were a ridiculous mouth full, as well as a reminder of that accursed myth anthology the Fan Shi had left behind, the names chosen specifically to spite her father.

Several cards sliced through the air, edges catching her skin as she struggled to dodge the unexpected attack. "Do you know how tarot cards work, fledgling?" he casually asked as he shuffled his cards. She refused to respond, but it didn't stop him from continuing, "The same can loosely be applied to cards like these. I could tell you your fortune."

More cards were sent at her. Lan busied herself with evading them, now back in the moment, ignoring his offer. With her slight advantage gone, Hisoka now aware of both of her abilities, she needed a new temporary strategy.

Another side-step around a card and she spun on her heel, darting down a narrow alley. He followed, a few final cards chasing her. She felt one slid across her shoulder. Deep. His feet left the ground, the sudden lack of footsteps deafening. She skidded to a stop, his nails breezing by her cheek as he landed in front of her, cutting her off. His grin grew as his jabs picked up speed. Luring him into close quarters was mistake. He still had the advantage. He kept her from retreating, his attacks requiring full attention because one precisely landed blow, a miscalculated block, would shatter or rupture something. Invincibly fast, she struggled to keep up with him, his swipes a hair's breadth from striking her. A glancing blow from his knee to her hip almost convinced her he had fractured it through her Ken. A hit to her elbow numbed her entire arm, shook her body. Hot blood dripped down her skin from the gash on her shoulder.

_Overwhelming. Need to get away. Need to run._

"I'm getting bored," he taunted, threatened, as panic tried to overtake anger in her eyes.

"Shut up!"

She lunged for him, fingers outstretched, thin layer of aura enveloping her right hand. Her left hand hid behind her for a fraction of a second. Hisoka pulled back his arm for an uppercut. Arri formed behind his back, snarling teeth prepared to crush his arm, hopefully tear it off. Nemmi swooped down at the same time, wing aimed for the nape of his neck.

A dangerous smile cut across his face, his eyes alight.

Before she could retreat, his foot caught her ankle, threatening to take her leg out from under her. She stumbled. His fist slammed into her cheek, snapping her head to the side, spit and blood escaping from her mouth as she was sent into a wall. The impact cracked concrete, shards digging into exposed skin as she fell away, dazed.

Her sight danced with double vision. Nemmi caught Hisoka's arm as he moved in for a second hit. A few seconds… Lan scrambled to run from the alley, tripping over nothing as her brain struggled to sort out her vision and balance. Arri jumped into the wall, slicing concrete to create a field of debris behind her. Nemmi used En to signal he had been shaken off, that he still existed, but Hisoka was loose. A few more steps and she'd be out of the alley. Just a few more. Her sight gradually stopped swimming. Blood ran from her mouth as she took shaky, heavy breaths, the inside of her cheek littered with cuts from her teeth. Nothing felt right.

She burst out of the alley, into the street, releasing Arri as she tried to spin on her heel.

Air rushed by her ears as her feet were torn from the ground. A vicious pull to her back, he used Bungee Gum again. She recalled Arri over her back, anticipating a fist or knee to pummel into her spine. Instead, she crashed into the side of a building, body scraping down the side. Blood flew from her mouth as she coughed, air knocked from her lungs. She felt nauseatingly dizzy as her vision spun in circles once more. She stumbled as her balance began failing under a fit of vertigo.

Another tug sent her skyward. As she was flung in an arc above the ground, she struggled to right herself before her face met concrete. She couldn't handle another hard blow to the head. Her knees buckled as her heels dug into the ground, the force behind his throw, through his Nen, absolutely stunning and insane. She had no hope against him. She was fighting for his approval now. Otherwise, this would be how she died.

"Your pet is a touch annoying," Hisoka commented off-handedly as Nemmi's wing nicked his ankle. Despite the blood, despite the multiple injuries to that leg, he kept standing there as if nothing had happened. She didn't understand. It had to hurt. It had to.

A fistful of cards ended her short respite. On shaking legs, she sprung forward, choosing not to evade but instead cover herself in sharpened aura. The cards struck Arri's fur, threatening to slice through before being shredded. Insane. Shu shouldn't be enough to slice through her aura, but it almost did. This monster dressed in human skin… Beautifully horrifying in every way imaginable.

Arri snapped onto Hisoka's arm as he all but offered it to her. She fought to keep control as he whipped his arm to the side, dragging Arri and her with him. At the cost of mangling the flesh and muscle, of blood dripping over gouged bone, of nearly severing his arm, he moved Arri out of the way. He raised his left arm, fist level with her head, a card between his fingers. He activated his Nen. Her feet tore apart the ground in resistance, but she lost her footing to magnetic force. Arri chewed on his right arm, a last chance to spitefully remove a limb, not enough time to maneuver it to save herself.

His face contorted as his aura became a toxic wave of malicious lust. "That look," he moaned in absolute glee. She had tunnel vision on the card. On its edge aimed for her face, for her eyes.

Nemmi slammed into her chest. The card dragged across her ribs at the sudden redirection of momentum. Arri thrashed, throwing itself into Hisoka, giving Lan enough time to stumble away. She doubled over, coughing up more blood. To shove her with his Nen still pulling her, Nemmi had to hit her incredibly hard. Rib-fracturing hard. Warm until a breeze caressed it, her side was bleeding a concerning amount.

Hisoka tossed Arri to the side again, the fox dispersing easily over the distance. "Tired so soon?" he asked, yellow eyes glimmering in the scant light. Blood dripped down torn skin, his right arm deep, glistening red. The stained white fabric around his ankle hung on by a tattered thread, hiding mangled flesh beneath. She didn't understand how he was still walking. How he could stand there so unaffected. How being severely injured aroused him. She might not feel pain, but injuries affected her. Physically and mentally, injures affected her, so why not him? Why couldn't she copy his utter disregard for… for everything!?

He casually ran his left hand through his hair, scaring her into using Gyo. A strand of pink Nen clung to her chest, connecting her to him. She couldn't remember when he had attached it there. His smile no longer hid the sadistic joy he got from this. From watching her panic escape from under her admiration and frustration.

"Such a good girl," he said, voice dropping lower as his eyes narrowed in satisfaction. "Keep looking at me with those eyes. That determination and fury, it turns me on." Like a creature from the depths of nightmares, he licked his lips, eyes taken with a euphoric battle high. "You turn me on," he stressed, leering gaze sliding over her body.

She stumbled back as he took a step forward, her heart pounding through her chest as her hands shook. He had snapped. She couldn't rationally appeal to him anymore. He would kill her. Peaked potential or not, he would kill her if she didn't find some way to escape or drag him back to sanity. But what did she have left?

Nothing. Hopelessly, abysmally, nothing.

Her eyes remained saucers when her brain failed again and again to find a solution. He had Bungee Gum attached to her. She couldn't run without him pulling her back; a master transmuter, getting far enough for his Nen to weaken enough for her to break free would be near impossible. A direct hit to Nemmi would disperse him. Hisoka easily countered Arri through brute strength alone. Nothing could stop a terrifying force of nature, a predator that had perfected its techniques against far stronger prey. This was a kingfisher against a crocodile. A fox against a wolf. A house cat against a lion.

"So quiet," he said, voice shattering her panicked thoughts. "I want to hear your voice. I want you to scream for me." She bit her lip, his tone disarming but his words unsettling. Mania clouded his mind. She was afraid to speak, of giving him what he wanted, because he might lose his last scrap of rationality to animalistic desire. "Tell me, do you want to kill me?"

She stood frozen and silent for what felt like an eternity. _What do I do?_ ran through her mind a thousand times. He took another step forward, time moving with agonizing slowness. "I do," she said, scared of her own voice breaking tense silence. "Because your prank got me in trouble with Chrollo."

His grin faltered.

Her face met another wall. As she pushed herself off the ground, realizing what happened a second too late, she heard him, his voice making her blood run cold with the lack of amusement.

"This is our moment." Finality darkened his tone, warning her that one more mention of Spiders would be met with extreme irritation.

Well, her appeal had backfired spectacularly. She thought reminding him his precious, spectacular leader wanted her alive might knock some sense back into him. He wouldn't dare jeopardize his fight with Chrollo, after all. It would be arrogant to think she was important, but she had been hoping to drag him back from heady excitement to reality even if only for a moment. Instead, she learned Hisoka had a warped sense of jealousy to accompany his bizarre obsessions.

She unburied herself from the rubble, turning on wobbly legs.

Her eyes filled with confusion. "Wha…?" she mumbled stupidly, staring at his arm. His right arm that should be a gory, mangled hunk of flesh barely clinging to bone was now perfectly intact, skin snowy white instead of blood red. He couldn't just regenerate a limb. She hadn't sensed any major shift in Nen, and healing _that would take a lot of Nen for an _enhancer_. An illusion? "You can't rattle me with magic tricks," she snapped back as she connected this with what had probably happened at the arena with the registration form._

__

"That's my good girl," he mumbled, words crawling over her skin to make her feel absolutely filthy. "Just like that."

She bit her lip as he jerked his arm back, flinging her into the air, this becoming an amusement park ride from hell. Instead of struggling against it, she used it to add to her momentum, covering herself in aura to make herself into a projectile. Nemmi smashed into his back as a hopeful distraction.

He spun on his heel, whipping her to the side before she crashed into him in a bloody embrace. With wind rushing past her ears, world spinning as he gave her the absolute worst motion sickness of her life, she nearly missed Nemmi acting on his own. He plummeted. Hisoka gained another gash to his shoulder. Her stomach dropped as Hisoka swung blindly downward, his fist pulverizing a wing.

Nemmi crashed to the ground. The hit knocked him from In, defenseless and visible. Not enough to disperse him. A chance. Still enough to live. Nemmi flailed, slicing apart concrete and asphalt in a desperate bid to shuffle away. He would die. Die again. Die.

"Hisoka!" she screamed as high as her voice went, her lungs emptied of air.

Hisoka froze for an agonizing moment that stretched to eternity. He stared at her, eyes widened ever so slightly. A moan broke the silence, his eyes almost rolling back into his head as he shivered. Whatever was going though his mind, she didn't want to know.

Before she had a chance to get over his reaction, another tug at her chest launched her straight into him, his fist hitting beneath her ribcage. She fell limply to the ground at his feet, coughing, struggling to breath. At least Nemmi made it back into the air… But another hit would disperse him. Blood loss was beginning to make her cold and light-headed. Her reaction time was failing as exhaustion began to set in. Hisoka… didn't even seem tired. His trick kept him bleeding out. Unlike her.

She kicked his shin in frustration. Arri latched onto his uninjured arm in a petty form of revenge for 'fixing' the other. While he tossed Arri aside, she struggled to her hands and knees, trying to stand. His elbow struck the back of her head as soon as she made any progress.

Lan pathetically rolled to the side. A short distance away, she tried crawling to her feet again, the ground seeming to rock back and forth. She called Arri back to her in defiance. She would put up a fight until the end. And that… that seemed incredibly near.

He slowly stalked towards her, a hand pulled at his shirt collar while the other grasped empty air longingly. Gold burned with passion. With bliss. "I love you right now," he said, voice dead serious. "I don't want this moment to end." He dramatically threw his arms to the side, inviting her closer. "Come here, Lan. I want you so badly."

"Then stop playing around with me," she said flatly, honestly. Her adamant refusal to move, her final form of resistance, made him smile wider, if only briefly.

"I see, I see," he mumbled, nodding to himself as he apparently realized something. "So that's the issue I have with you."

His words made her snap. "You're the issue, bastard!"

With the absolute last of her strength, she ran towards him, calling Arri in front of her. He fueled her rage further when that mocking grin returned to his face, in how his eyes lit with that same love-struck sparkle he had as his card sliced across her skin. A twitch of his finger and she felt her leg give out from under her, her calf suddenly wet with blood. As she stumbled, she saw it. Stabbed through her tendon, a card, seven of diamonds. From the start of the-

A pink glow in the corner of her vision made her heart stop.

Something slammed into the back of her head with the force of a truck, her vision blackening before she could finish falling. Seconds or minutes passed until she found herself face-first on the ground, a shadow looming above her, bloodlust laced aura overwhelming, nauseating, terrifying.

All the panic and adrenaline in the world failed to move her battered body.

* * *

Lan struggled to push herself off the ground, her last spark of anger fading into absolute desperation. Hisoka slowly walked towards her, unsure of what he wanted beyond that. It was clear she was fighting unconsciousness already. She wouldn't be all that entertaining if she couldn't fight back, but… She was _such_ a good girl. All cut up and bloody, she had tried her hardest to go against him despite her still imperfect skills and painfully lacking experience. She even caught him off guard. Once. It was adorable, really, how far her determination and anger carried her. She exceeded his expectations. So much so that he fought her a bit longer than intended. Did more damage than intended. Got more excited than intended.

He lied. He knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do to her right now.

A cut opened on his shoulder, drawing his attention to the few drops of red seeping from the wound, painting his skin. The slightest breeze at his side hinted that the bird remained near. Such an odd thing. A waste of her potential considering how many categories it appeared to utilize. It needed to go away. He covered his hand in aura before lashing out. His fist struck the creature. As the bird's In failed, he saw the final wisps of Nen that had composed it fading away.

They were alone once more, and he would have it no other way. This was a special moment, after all.

He stopped beside her, nudging her side with his foot to roll her onto her back. Shaking breaths from parted lips, eyes dilated, and the scent of blood lingering in the air… Enticing in every way. He dropped to his knees next to her. She immediately tried to push herself from the ground to escape, but her arms gave out within half a second of effort. A weak swipe at his face made him smile, her nails scraping over his cheek so helplessly she barely smudged the painted star.

A hand on her throat made her freeze. Her heart pounded so furiously he could feel the blood pumping underneath his fingers. Her skin suddenly felt so delicate beneath his nails. The moment lasted forever as he stared into her eyes. Terrified. Betrayed. Infuriated. Her whole world was crashing down around her, spiraling out of her control, and he loved every part of it. Of her.

The lightest squeeze sent her over the edge. Her fingers curled around his, desperately trying to pry them away before he crushed her airway closed. She tried to wrench free by kicking at him, flexible enough that her heel almost struck his face a few times. His grip grew tighter as he straddled her waist to end her distracting flailing. He wanted to see her expression crumble to unparalleled fear. Ragged breaths quickly became choking gasps. Her nails dug into his skin, the rest of her body deathly still. She mouthed 'stop' several times before begging 'please Hisoka stop' endlessly, tears in her eyes, his imagination delivering a vivid rendition of her lovely voice stumbling over his name in agony.

Her grip began to slacken, her uneven gasps becoming shallow. Unfocused and glazed over, her eyes fell closed. His hold tightened. Another few moments… Just a few more and he'd be there.

Hisoka jolted backwards. A cold burn seared from his hand up his arm even after dropping Lan to the ground. She sharply inhaled, rolling onto her side before curling up in the fetal position, whimpering quietly between quivering breaths.

He stared at his hand in utter bewilderment. He had felt a lot of things, but his aura leaking away uncontrollably? That was a new one. Experimentally, he tried using Bungee Gum with that hand. Absolutely nothing. The spread had slowed but still fought to creep further up his arm.

He used Gyo.

Inky black aura clung to his skin, strongest on his palm before gradually fading away. This… this wasn't even her aura. He had no explanation for it.

Hisoka sat down beside her, waiting to see if that aura returned. Seconds dragged on with no changes.

"Lan?"

She didn't respond, finally unconscious from blood loss and near asphyxiation. The aura clinging to his hand quickly dissipated, leaving him without an answer and positively captivated. Also, thoroughly ejected from his battle high.

He had almost killed her.

He didn't feel guilty about it. She just happened to be more useful alive currently. He would hate to gain Chrollo's irritation and suspicion before Kurapika could deliver; to get the Troupe to stay in Yorknew, he would inevitably have to do something that drew negative attention to himself. If the kid failed entirely, Lan also happened to be his backup plan. Killing her now would be very inconvenient to him. She had ever so kindly tried to remind him of this earlier.

There was also that slight… issue.

Hisoka grabbed Lan's hip to roll her onto her back again. He rested the back of his hand against her cheek, her tears cold against his skin. She gave no response, dead to the world.

He felt, shockingly, a touch hesitant to kill her. Eventually he would, but, right now, he didn't feel that drive outside of a battle-induced euphoria. There was simply more he wanted to do with her before ending her life. Like fucking her until she couldn't walk.

He leaned over, pressing his lips to hers. The metallic taste of blood on cold unmoving lips… He quickly pulled away, pouting.

"You would make for a dreadfully boring corpse." Because corpses were just that. Boring. Nothing interesting about a lifeless lump of flesh incapable of moving on its own. For a morally corrupt person, he had some boundaries. Necrophilia being one. Since it would be boring. "Of course, you might become one if I keep distracting myself."

He hummed happily, grabbing the bottom of her shirt, tugging at it until it bunched up under her armpits. He was a bit disappointed, her bra incredibly plain and modest, but judging it wasn't exactly his goal. Moving the fabric disturbed coagulated blood, red seeping from her wound again. She had already lost a significant amount of blood, and he would really prefer to not drag her unconscious body to a hospital for a transfusion. Machi couldn't replace lost blood, after all. A testing flick of his fingers revealed that secondary aura's effects had regressed, although not yet disappeared. He had another hand anyway.

(Although, he was morbidly curious what would have happened had he not reacted to his instinct to pull away, if his aura would have drained away entirely with more exposure. If it would eventually kill him in retribution for killing her like an avenging curse. Fascinating. He wanted to know where it came from.)

A bit of Bungee Gum sealed the cut. He moved onto her ankle, retrieving the card still buried in her bone, through her tendon. A bloodied seven of diamonds, she had never given him the opportunity to tell her the fortune behind it. Reassessment. A turning point. He wondered what she had learned, because the fortune seemed to apply to him as much as her. He ran his hand through her blood-soaked hair, locating the seeping gashes to seal them as well. With those wounds closed, he began patching up some of the other lacerations. Except her shoulder. He would tell Machi to leave it alone as well, because he wanted it to scar. She needed a reminder of their fight. Something she could marvel at and lovingly remember him by.

"You did well, fledgling," he congratulated as he pulled her shirt down. She had started off so strongly. She had improved immensely since their first fight, her control and techniques more fine-tuned, more experience to her name. "But you need to pay more attention to your surroundings." He had attached that card to her ankle at the start of the battle, first throwing it at her feet and then connecting it to her when he beckoned her forward. She never glanced downwards when she had used Gyo. After elbowing the back of her head, he had connected a piece of rubble to her, leading to the conclusion as it was. She didn't notice he could connect his aura between other objects, not just himself to a target. "You tend to get tunnel vision." As precious as her frustration was, it had consumed her, made her reckless and sloppy. A balance could be reached, considering he fought while unbelievably horny. He didn't let it distract him. Much. In fact, it tended to distract his opponents more so than him.

Hisoka gathered her from the ground, carrying her against his chest briefly before plopping her against the side of a building, crouching in front of her. He grabbed her abandoned shirt, fighting limp limbs to redress her. It felt a bit wrong, since he very much wanted to undress her, but she had earned herself some dignity. And seeing her in this state was his privilege alone. Disturbing her vest made her phone clatter as it hit pavement, a card landing beside it. He picked it up, inspecting it. A high-end hotel name was engraved on the front, a room number in the corner. Not the place he imagined she would be staying. Too extravagant. He stuffed both back into her pocket after getting the vest on her.

He stood, hauling her to her feet with him. Hands on her hips, he picked her up to throw her onto his shoulder. Despite the quiet walk back to the hideout, he grinned to himself, more than pleased with the rematch. With her.


	17. The Fallout to Follow: Cutting Free

The celebration began dying down as the rush of the heist faded. Machi sat on the ground, back resting against a crate, empty bottles and cans stacked in a pile next to her. Feitan and Shalnark were still digging through the crates, arguing over something. The others were spread about the room, Shizuku forcing a few into a card game, Phinks somehow corrupting it into an extreme drinking game- Uvogin would have approved. She had almost been soaked in beer when Phinks tried to nail Feitan's head, only for him to dodge. Crate behind her had a hole through it now. Kortopi, Pakunoda, and Danchou were sitting near her, doing nothing in particular, perhaps watching the card game with mild amusement.

The door hinges screeching in protest signaled the return of the only absent Spider. Machi glanced at the door, waiting to see just how much work Hisoka had created for her this evening.

She had told Danchou about Hisoka's plan when he asked where Hisoka was off to (she would have told him regardless considering his interest in the matter), but he didn't act on the information. She didn't know his reasoning behind it. Maybe he decided the girl didn't have what he wanted after all. Her gut told her that assumption didn't seem quite right.

Hisoka paraded into the room, pleased grin plastered to his face, the unconscious girl slung over his shoulder. Hisoka himself appeared cut up, his ankle in particular. She bet he had more wounds hidden from view. Idiot. The rest of the Troupe spared him only a glance before deciding they didn't want to deal with him and his nonsense. At least not while he was in the room, grinning ear to ear.

"Machi, could you give me a hand?" he asked overly sweetly. "I brought Danchou a gift, but it got a bit damaged on the way here." At least the girl appeared to be alive. The drying blood staining her pants near the hip had run down her body from somewhere, though. Her ankle didn't seem to be in good condition either. Still, he was going to get into trouble if he didn't learn to follow orders better. Danchou always looked a bit disappointed when they carelessly broke something valuable- like the vase that happened to get hit by that beer-turned-projectile.

Machi stood, eyes briefly looking to Danchou. 'Go tally the damage' was what she got from his expression.

Hisoka took the lead, Machi grabbing a few candles from the stash they kept on the way, deciding she liked to see while she worked. He wandered down the hall before deciding on a random room to enter. He deposited Lanfen (or was it just Lan?) on the floor in a pile, her head knocking on the concrete. While Machi lit a few candles, he took a seat across from Lan, giving Machi plenty of room to work, but also a prime view for him to watch.

"So." Machi had a hand on her hip as she stared at the limp body. The start of a bruising ring around her neck was the only additional injury she could see. The lack of tears in her clothes was disturbingly suspicious. Maybe her injuries weren't the result of a straight forward fight. Still weird for him to redress her. "What's wrong with her?" she asked, not wanting to poke around blindly and waste time.

"Hmm?" Hisoka momentarily ignored her question, pulling a piece of cloth off his right arm to reveal horribly mangled flesh. Feitan had mentioned something about 'aura shaped like a fox.' Hisoka apparently let it chew on his arm. He stared at the torn flesh lovingly, running a finger over it. "A cut under her ribcage, a severed tendon, some other wounds on the back of her head. Nothing serious."

Machi looked at him disbelievingly, although her expression probably didn't show it. She knelt down next to the girl. For the sake of efficiency, she tore Lan's sweatshirt at the seam. It'd take only a second to fix it, while trying to pull it off an unconscious body would take much longer- which, again, made him bothering to redress her odd. A second shirt greeted her instead of skin, this one sticky with blood, a giant line slashed through it. So maybe it was just a fight. Machi tore aside the shirt to finally glimpse the straight, deep cut. One of his cards, most likely.

"You can drop your aura now."

"Be gentle with her," Hisoka warned jokingly, more or less acknowledging her request. "She is a delicate little thing."

Immediately, the wound seeped blood, his Bungee Gum the only thing preventing her from finishing bleeding to death. He had attempted to keep her alive. Minimally. With how pale her skin looked and the amount of blood soaked into her clothes, she was teetering dangerously towards severe blood-loss shock.

Machi grabbed a needle, concentration on the cut as thread appeared. The stitches were quickly completed since it was a straight cut that didn't damage much tissue, disconnected blood vessels the main issue. After snapping the thread, she then fixed the girl's clothes. She could be considerate. And leaving her half-undressed in a room with Hisoka, that seemed like a bizarre punishment even Feitan wouldn't inflict on someone.

She moved onto fixing Lan's ankle. Unsurprisingly, it was another card-inflicted wound. All the other damage would be internal; with the thick layer of dust clinging to her, Hisoka had obviously tossed her around. Machi didn't notice any obvious, life-threatening breaks. When Lan woke up -and someone agreed to pay her- Machi could deal with that as well.

Finished with the worst looking wounds, she began with the more minor injuries. Namely the back of her head as another bloodstain formed on the floor.

"Oh, and Machi," Hisoka began, now making his presence known through words rather than impressed, delighted, humming, "leave her shoulder as is." She tried not to think about the request. It was another weird Hisoka thing that she didn't particularly want to know.

A final stitch signaled it was time to switch 'patients.' She made her way over to him, ignoring the blissful smile on his face. His arm looked as bad as it had at a distance. Maybe even a bit worse, raw flesh and blood glistening in dim candlelight. "You're an idiot, you know." She felt like she was repeating herself. Mostly because she was. She just couldn't quite understand why he deliberately got himself hurt all the time, why he seemed to enjoy it so much. Sadism she could understand. Inflicting pain on others, in her experience, made sense. It was often for survival. Sadism was just taking a bit more pride and enjoyment in it. But masochism? She didn't understand what would drive someone to so recklessly seek pain.

"So I've been told," he said, smiling, not a hint of regret in his voice. He rather obediently offered his arm to her. "But look, I get to see your Nen Stitches again."

"Hmm." She wordlessly began the process of piecing his arm back together, grossly serrated flesh making it a more troublesome fix than a cleanly sliced off limb. Animal bites… The last time she dealt with one this bad was in Meteor City. A kid with his face about mauled off by a dog, her teacher had brought him in as a final challenge in her crash course on surgery techniques. She forced her to hand stitch everything too- said it'd make her Nen Stitches more effective if she could do it well without Nen.

"About my payment," Machi said as she leaned back, Hisoka experimentally moving his arm with a look of wonder inappropriate for the situation. He'd seen her Nen enough that the awe should have worn off by now.

"I thought we already agreed on it," he said with faked offence before his voice dropped to mocking- because that's what the flirty tone he took was. "Did you perhaps change your mind? Want something else from me instead?"

"You let your arm get chewed up." Honestly, she expected Lan to be in worse condition- dead- and Hisoka to come back relatively unscathed. Instead, Lan had simple cuts while Hisoka had a complex series of punctures and tears. That were preventable, if he only cared to prevent them. "It's more work than I agreed to fix."

"So cold." His pout lasted only a second before that grin crept back onto his face.

"Additional thirty thousand."

"I'll send it to your account," he said, not making an argument of it for entertainment. Good. She moved onto his ankle with the new terms agreed to. "I would hate to cross you, Machi."

"You should be more concerned about crossing Danchou."

An innocent smile was his only response to the veiled warning and threat.

Hisoka didn't belong to anything or anyone, loyal to himself and only himself. And that, that was what made him dangerous. To himself. To the Spider. Her intuition told her to watch him, keep him from doing something stupid for both their sakes.

"Well," Machi announced after addressing his comparatively minor injuries. She stood and took a step back, declaring, "I'm done."

Hisoka surprisingly rose as well, wandering towards the door. "I hope I haven't missed all of the celebrations," he said dramatically, teasingly. He didn't care about Uvo's requiem. He barely participated in the heist. "Coming along?"

"In a moment."

She pretended to study Lan until he shrugged dismissively, disappearing into the hallway. She waited another minute, preferring to be out of his company- teaming up with him earlier, she'd already had enough of him tonight. Eventually, she turned to leave. At least for a few hours; she should probably check on her 'patient' to make sure she didn't die of injury complications before she knew if Danchou had actually lost interest or not.

* * *

The dulling late morning sun didn't reach the room, a fresh candle lit to brighten the space as he went about his business. Almost disappointingly, he found her phone in the right pocket of her vest. Not much challenge or entertainment in stealing from her while she was unconscious, her Nen bird absent. After turning it on, he found her phone didn't even have a passcode enabled. Stealing her wallet yesterday had been just as easy; however, he would admit that her reaction had been amusing. Directing her bloodlust at him so brazenly while standing frozen in place, understanding she stood no chance against him, her falsely neutral expression broke into truthful fury and admiration.

With her phone in hand, Chrollo stood before leaning against the wall.

Soon, he planned to disperse the Troupe to avoid the fortune the Nostrade girl had given him. Losing half their limbs wasn't worth finding the Chain User, although he suspected a few members would oppose this- Nobu in particular. No matter their resistance, they would leave if he ordered it, but he wanted to test out the latest addition to his collection. If more fortunes offered insight into the situation and helped avoid casualties while pursuing the Chain User, he would allow for it. The Chain User took something from the Troupe, after all, and, in Meteor City, that warranted a funeral lined with the corpses of the perpetrator and their associates. Uvo's requiem wouldn't truly be complete until then. Nobu would rightly insist that. The Chain User had few options now. Namely, join or die.

Stealing Lanfen's Hunter License had been accidental, but potentially convenient. He began entering his number onto her phone. If the Troupe dispersed, then he would simply take her with him to begin his next project. However, if some Spiders pursued the Chain User, he would deal with Lanfen after the matter was neatly concluded. She might become collateral damage if she stuck around. He required her alive, after all. Her license would prove effective bait. The promise of returning it might forgo the bothers of tracking her down later; she seemed the type to hide. Giving her his number was a peace offering. Instead of just finding hers, it was a gentle reminder that he was attempting to be civil about this matter, that her cooperation would be rewarded- and that he would be willing to return her license, as he could have just as easily stolen her phone as enter some numbers on it.

For good measure, he added Machi's number as well. The girl seemed a bit accident prone as a result of her reckless nature. Yet, he certainly didn't consider her current condition an accident. Rather, the opposite. The heavy bruising around her neck, the pallor to her skin, and the fact she was still passed out… If anything, the accident was her survival.

The door opening pulled his attention away from Lanfen. Machi quietly entered, leaning against the wall next to the door. She silently assessed her patient before glancing back to him, at the phone in his hand.

"Hey," she greeted, choosing not to question it. Very casual this morning, dropping the formalities. This conversation wasn't directed at him as the leader of the Troupe, then. "She's the Paijin kid the Fan Shi want, isn't she?"

Chrollo smiled subtly. She finally decided to address her curiosity. "She is," he answered simply. Machi had a vested interest in the matter. Sybil happened to be a long-time customer of hers. A well-paying one at that. From what he understood, years ago, an acquaintance of Sybil's also taught Machi for a time. Machi, while not quite to Pakunoda's level, could be sentimental at times. But her loyalty was ultimately his, and that wouldn't change over lost profits. She had, after all, helped him steal Sybil's ability. She had already proven herself more than willing to cross Sybil to assist him in questionable endeavors.

"Well, it's not my business what you do," Machi eventually responded, the hand on her hip hinting that she still didn't quite like the idea. Her intuition, most likely. "Still think it sounds like a hassle to do by yourself," she volunteered as she pushed herself away from the wall, satisfied enough.

"I will keep that in mind, Machi," he said as she opened the door. A slight nod met his words before she left him to contemplate his next treasure.

But, he figured it was about time he made his dispersal announcement. He returned Lanfen's phone to her pocket after turning it off, abandoning her in the empty room, more or less free to leave when she regained consciousness. Closing the door behind him and returning his hands to his pockets, he felt eyes down the hall watching him with the utmost interest. Hisoka flicked another card into the floor to complete a pattern before stepping away from the wall. He must have followed Machi. Or him. Hisoka had kept a rather diligent watch on those who wandered towards Lanfen. He felt possessive over her despite almost killing her less than twelve hours ago, but such was his nature.

"Danchou," Hisoka began, suspect smile on his face, standing with a hand on his hip, "are you enjoying the gift I brought you?"

"I find she's rather quiet right now. Much like a corpse." He trusted his Spiders to follow his requests a bit more closely than this. In fact, he didn't pursue Hisoka on the assumption that he would pay heed to his earlier warning. If Lanfen wasn't a personal interest, this disobedience might warrant punishment.

"My apologies," Hisoka said, not a shred of sincerity in his voice even as he recognized Chrollo's displeasure with his actions. "I had a bit too much fun with her last night." The acknowledgment of his mistake hardly made up for his lack of restraint, but at least he admitted to it. "Might I ask what you plan to do with her? I find myself morbidly curious."

"What do I plan to do with her?" he repeated back, looking upwards. Hisoka must be clueless about her heritage to ask him this directly- even Lanfen must have refused to tell him. While now possessive over her, Hisoka largely remained the greatest threat to her life. "She has connections I want to exploit." Chrollo decided Hisoka wasn't the best choice for this mission, or, rather, that this would serve as a reprimand. "That is, I haven't decided," he lied, meeting Hisoka's gaze. "I will see what use she truly has after leaving Yorknew."

Hisoka raised an eyebrow even if he understood he would not receive further explanation. "Are you perhaps taking her with you?" His curiosity prevented him from taking Chrollo's words with due finality.

Hisoka enjoyed challenging people, testing their patience until they unwittingly played into his hands. The other Spiders found it disrespectful. Chrollo found it interesting- as well as disrespectful- this method of misdirection and manipulation. Had he not joined the Phantom Troupe, Hisoka could have proven a potentially irritating enemy.

Outside, a storm gathered, thunder breaking the brief silence.

"I'm considering that as well," he answered, walking forward, Hisoka stepping aside in the last moment possible. Chrollo added, "Hisoka, would you rejoin the others for a moment." Not a question, but not quite a firm demand either. "I have an announcement to make."

"Of course, Danchou," Hisoka abated, trailing after him like an ever-present shadow.

* * *

Lan grumbled unintelligibly as he disturbed her again, dragging her head into his lap before absently playing with her hair, brushing it away from her face, twirling a strand around his finger. The open window had given her a chill, so she reluctantly relaxed into him, seeking warmth. She would be furious if she woke up.

Hisoka wore a perpetual grin now that everything had suddenly fallen back into place.

"I won't even need to use you," he whispered to her, flicking her bruised cheek lightly. She scowled, oh so close to waking up from her exhaustion nap. He might keep pestering her just to see what her reaction would be.

But using that fortune, risking it all by letting Chrollo interpret his actions while already a bit peeved with him, it had been so worth it. He kept them in Yorknew. Kurapika had performed outstandingly, capturing Chrollo but accidentally allowing Gon and Killua to be taken, a hostage exchange was inevitable. The Troupe may be split over sacrificing Chrollo to kill the Chain User or going through with the exchange, but he could already tell which side would eventually win. They were reliant on their precious Danchou. Pakunoda would complete the exchange.

On cue, Illumi crawled in through the open window.

"You're right on time." Hisoka pulled Lan to her feet as he stood, awkwardly leaning her deadweight against his side, his arm slung over her shoulders.

"Hello," Illumi greeted automatically, his expression as blank as ever. "What was it you needed?"

"A simple stand in while I take care of some business. Nothing complicated, I assure." Illumi had, after all, accomplished the most difficult part of the job: infiltrating the base unnoticed. It's not as though Hisoka could leave to switch places; even gaining ten minutes alone to check on Lan had been met with much resistance. (He was quite sure the boys recognized her name. Whatever was his little fledgling up to that she kept meeting his targets?)

"I can give you a few hours at most." Dark eyes bore into at Lan after Illumi glanced at her. His attention flickered back to Hisoka. "Is that acceptable?" he asked, noticing Hisoka's curious expression. "If it isn't, I suppose we can renegotiate my fee."

"Tell me," Hisoka began, jostling Lan around, his hand on her forehead to pull back her hair so it didn't obscure so much of her face, "do you recognize her?" Almost like a conspiracy, everyone appeared to recognize her. But, then again, he never did ask many questions about her past. Or about her in general, for that matter. He only knew that she felt the need to hide using ridiculous disguises, and that she likely had some underground connections.

"She looks like someone Father killed," Illumi answered simply, not giving any other helpful hints. A relative assassinated, that hardly gave Hisoka much to work with. Even if he no longer needed Lan to get to Chrollo, he was genuinely curious now. He felt left out.

"Do assassins remember all of their targets?" Hisoka raised an eyebrow, imploring him to continue on this tangent.

"Nonsense. Why would someone bother doing something pointless like that?" The disconnect from his expressionless face and his words was as prominent as ever. "A member of a mafia family -Paijin I think it was- hired Father and I to kill a number of targets over an evening."

"That sounds quite mundane."

"A second person hired us during the massacre to kill the original client for three times the initial amount. It was one of our most profitable jobs." Ah. Increasing the family's wealth and prestige, the only reason Illumi would care to remember something so otherwise trivial. "Talking about my fee and seeing her happened to remind me. Is it important?"

"Hmm… No." Not at all now that he had his date with Chrollo arranged. She was back to being his little distraction when he got bored of other things. He would maybe look up more about the Paijin on the Hunter Site- such an unexpectedly useful perk- after he had his fated fight with dear Chrollo just to torment her.

Hisoka adjusted his hold on Lan, dragging her to the window. Cold raindrops pelting her face made her nose scrunch up adorably but didn't wake her. It was for the best. Knocking her out again, he would hate to accidentally give her brain damage through repeated concussions- he doubted she would be in a good mood when she woke up, especially if he was toting her around. He minorly regretted his room choice. Such a small window. He didn't think he'd have to squeeze out of it when he had chosen the room last night; it was, however, the perfect size to awkwardly shove Lan through. Her dangling body outside, he temporarily stuck her to the building with Bungee Gum. "Until next time, Illumi," he said, the assassin poking at his face to gradually change it- fascinating, he would have loved to stay and watch it to completion.

Without further ado, he contorted his body until he slipped through the window, landing gracefully on the ground below. A tug to his aura and Lan slammed into his shoulder, ready to be carried back to her hotel room for safekeeping. Lan was lucky he had found that room key and that the hotel wasn't too far out of his way, or he would have dumped her in an alley somewhere. He didn't want to just leave her at the mercy of the Phantom Troupe, after all. With what he was about to do to their leader, they would kill Lan in hopes of bothering him -and it might work, if only a bit, since he still had plans for her.

He would have plenty of time to catch up with Pakunoda and the boys if he left now. He glanced over his shoulder, remembering something he had 'failed' to mention to Illumi.

A small detail, of course. A shame he wouldn't be there when Illumi found his precious brother a captive of the Troupe. It might even be enough to break his blank expression. He might worry that Illumi would ditch the plan in favor of rescuing his brother, but the entire Troupe was conveniently gathered in one room. Illumi would recognize his odds. It would be better to stay in disguise, to allow Killua to leave with injured Pakunoda, than risk a fight breaking out. Oh well. A possible rise out of Illumi in no way compared to fighting Chrollo.

In the meantime, to keep himself busy just a touch longer, Hisoka cheerfully began his heroic mission to save Lan from the Spiders.

* * *

Meiling paced back and forth. Lanfen had left her a disturbing note last night. One that she didn't find until this morning. _"If I'm not back in twenty-four hours, I'm probably dead."_ She had tried calling Lanfen's phone a dozen or more times with no response.

The twenty-four-hour mark was fast approaching.

Lanfen would never leave a note like that. Not unless the probability of her dying far outweighed the odds of her surviving. She didn't want Meiling to be searching for a ghost the rest of her life.

This was her fault. Lanfen had been so adamant about not going to the auction, she knew something she refused to share, but Meiling had insisted. That vase, even if it was one from her husband's collection, sold off by Libao under her nose, it wasn't worth losing Lanfen. What trouble had she gotten herself into? All Lanfen's complaints… She now feared it had something to do with the Phantom Troupe. But she had also been so excited earlier about that Hisoka taking her on a date… What sort of lie had she been telling? What convinced her that she wouldn't be coming back from it alive?

The beep of a card reader and the sound of the door opening cut through oppressive silence. Meiling whipped around expectantly, hopefully. After only a few steps her feet dragged to stop, hope dying, confusion blending with anger. A man best described as a tall menacing clown with painted skin and bright red hair had Lanfen's limp, unconscious body casually slung over his shoulder. Both were soaking wet from the cold downpour. Anything she could think to say stuck in her throat as startling gold eyes looked down on her with a touch of surprise and then amusement.

"What did you do to her?" she finally snapped as he took another step into the room. Meiling found herself frozen in place. Despite his ridiculous appearance, she felt incredibly unnerved by this man. Especially as his lips curled into a smile, as he looked back to Lanfen. Meiling's very presence was inconsequential. Her voice may as well be the wind whistling.

"Hmm?" He let Lanfen slide off his shoulder before he unceremoniously and roughly dropped her on the couch, Lanfen mumbling incoherently. Her cheek had a massive bruise. A vicious ring of purple marred her neck, finger shaped bruises well formed on her sickly pale skin. Bloodstains, even under a torrent of water, still discolored her clothes. "I didn't expect you to be staying with anyone, fledgling. It's almost as though I know nothing about you."

"You!" Meiling jabbed an accusing finger in his direction, placing his voice. _This_ was the Hisoka Lanfen had been talking about? She had lied about everything, from his appearance to his relationship with her. It appeared as though he had tried his best to kill her; _that_ was not what a friend a did. Lanfen knew that. "What did you do to her?" she asked again, voice raising to a shout. He ignored her. "I asked-"

A card imbedding in the wall beside her head silenced her. To throw the room key through sheetrock like it was paper, for her to not even see it happen… Who the hell had Lanfen gotten involved with?

"Now, now. It's rude to yell at guests," he chided lightly, turning away from Lanfen to face her. Meiling felt like she was having a heart attack, breathing stressed as fear took a stranglehold over her body. This was bloodlust. Some of the worst she had ever felt. "If Lan doesn't wake up by morning, take her to a hospital." His voice was devoid of concern, sounding more inconvenienced and matter-of-fact than anything. That was all the attention he spared Meiling before glancing back to Lanfen. The smile as he looked at her, it made Meiling's blood run cold. "After taking the time to bring you here," he said as he walked to the door, "it would be a shame if you somehow died from old injuries."

The door closed behind him, Meiling dropping to her knees as her legs gave out. No matter how much she wanted to sprint over to Lanfen, she couldn't. Her heart pounded as her body shook. She hated Nen, how it felt when used around her. She might have grown used to Lanfen's, but that man's, no human should be able to produce an awful aura that felt like death itself.

Eventually, she pulled herself to her feet to shuffle over to Lanfen. Freezing cold to the touch, she needed to get out of her soaked clothes first. No gaping wounds or fresh blood, Meiling didn't understand what had even happened to her, how injured she truly was.

"Lanfen, dear, please wake up," she muttered, clutching Lanfen's fingers in her own. Meiling never thought she'd be so happy to hear Lanfen grumble in her sleep and try to turn away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special guest appearance: Illumi! I know its a stretch that he'd remember assassination missions beyond their completion, names forgotten upon payment, but I thought maybe some of his first missions would be more memorable. He would have been around eight-ish at the time, accompanied by Silva, as they fulfilled the original contract as well as Fanghe's. And who else is going to bring Hisoka into the loop? Guy doesn't even know Lan's first name, and Lanfen and Chrollo sure as hell aren't sharing.


	18. Freed: Past Bound

A pressure in her head, body freezing cold, she flipped onto her back, somewhere between awake and asleep. Uncomfortable. Everything felt uncomfortable. The startling question of why ran through her mind a few times, brain searching for what she last remembered. _The auction had been earlier, right? Right._ Another moment and the next two things that popped into her head made her heart accelerate. Hisoka. Rematch.

Lan shot upwards, hands gripping the sheets under her with fabric-tearing strength, the blissful ignorance of sleep ripped away from her. Her hand went to her neck, unwelcome tears forming in her eyes as the memory replayed in her head with cruel clarity. Straddling her waist, crushing her neck, terrifying pleasure in his eyes. So slow. It'd been so agonizingly slow. She wiped an arm across her eyes before pathetically burying her face in her hands, trying to calm down. Even as she begged he just… And the panic and the fear and suffocating…

"Lanfen, dear, what's wrong?"

Hearing her full name was the most comforting thing in the world. She glanced to the side, biting back more tears. The hotel. She was back in the hotel room, Auntie at her side looking positively haggard. She set a reassuring hand on her shoulder now that Lan wouldn't lash out at her on accident. Her hair a mess, eyes rimmed red from tears of her own, worry trying to give way to relief, Auntie waited in suspense for an answer.

"Don't… know yet," she forced out in grating whisper before coughing. She found herself stripped down to her underwear already but failed to find cuts decorating her skin; only mottled blues and purples. The wound on her ribs was reduced to a thin line of pink. Machi's work. It had to be. "What time?"

"A little after two," Auntie answered. It explained the darkness in the room, but Lan struggled to piece together a timeline. She honestly didn't know what day it was anymore. "It's the fifth, dear," Auntie added, noticing her obvious confusion. No wonder she appeared so beside herself… It had almost been twenty-four hours; she probably thought she was dead since finding the note. "A menacing clown dropped you off about three hours ago. Please tell me that wasn't Hisoka."

"It was," Lan mumbled, the name making her scowl while biting her lip and wringing her hands. Auntie's words only made her more confused.

Undoubtedly, undeniably, he had been a twitch and a second away from killing her. She had no idea why he didn't. Sometime after being choked to unconsciousness, she had ended up in Machi's care. Since she had only been brought back to the hotel a few hours ago, she was presumably at the Troupe's hideout the rest of the time. With what Hisoka did… Why save her at all? And why bother to move her so many hours later? Seemed like something he'd love to gloat about the second she woke…

"Where's my phone?" she asked hoarsely.

Auntie almost immediately handed it to her, something in Lan's expression urgent enough that she didn't question her. She held the power button, finding it still powered down- she hadn't wanted it to distract her during the fight, maybe the only smart move she made. With the last bit of its battery, she went into her contacts, hoping the bastard left her some clue to his bewildering decisions. Her brows pushed together before she could even reach the miraculous message.

She stared blankly at two additions in her contacts: a spiderweb and a needle. It came off as a joke about her labeling contacts with emojis, but, at the same time, she couldn't see this as being Hisoka's handiwork. She couldn't imagine him being bored enough that he would turn on her phone, let alone add random numbers. Not with a group of conscious people, most of which his mere presence offended, in the same building. He wouldn't sit around with her boring half-corpse when he had a living audience to irritate. But also going through the fuss of turning it off after using it? No, he would never do something like that. He would want to her to know that he had been playing with it. That seemingly left…

Why couldn't she think this clearly while fighting? _Euphoria, adrenaline, and panic_ , her brain unhelpfully answered as she scanned the message from Hisoka.

It turned out to be two.

 _"I would avoid the spiders~ They won't be too happy with me after tonight. You won't have to worry about Chrollo though ;) He's mine tonight~"_ had been sent a little before midnight.

 _"Never mind."_ followed twenty minutes later.

She stifled some weak laughter at the sheer disappointment he got across with a two-word message lacking his usual obnoxious punctuation. Served the bastard right.

Being petty was much easier than confronting the truth. Dropping her off here had been his attempt to keep her out of the chaos his betrayal would cause. Had he left her at the base, the Spiders would have probably killed her, even if not right away. More self-serving actions dressed as kindness that she almost wanted to believe…The only promise he seemed set on keeping was that he would be the one to kill her.

She hated it. He had nearly choked her to death, and yet here she was considering if she should be grateful to him for saving her from his own mess.

Even better, she wasn't entirely sure if he had taken her to Machi in the first place! He had probably left her to bleed to death after getting bored with her unconscious body. She might sooner believe fucking Chrollo personally dragged her pathetic self to the hideout than Hisoka suddenly changing his mind about strangling her to death as he came. It made sense. Sort of. If the Troupe scraped her off the ground for their boss, they would have taken her to their base. They would keep her alive, treat dire wounds, so Chrollo could have his hostage. If Hisoka had planned everything, it would make more sense to _not_ keep her in the Troupe's hideout where he would have to later move her- an especially unnecessary risk if Chrollo told the Troupe to keep her there now that they had her.

Most of all, it was easier for her to believe. She wanted to believe this. Even if Hisoka's fickleness made a snap decision to keep her alive more than plausible, she… She wanted, _needed_ to hate him. Otherwise she would be in this position again and again and again in an endless cycle until he really did kill her. She could be self-destructive, she wouldn't lie to herself and say she wasn't, but this… this relationship was reaching the point of being actively suicidal.

"Dear?" Auntie's voice called over her thoughts, panic rising in her voice. "Dear, you need to control yourself." Another second passed before Lan noticed her aura had begun to spike dangerously with her emotions. A lapse in control aggravated by spinning emotions and Nemmi's absence, it must have been bad for Auntie to point it out… "Thank you," she said with a breath of relief. "Have you decided what's wrong, yet?"

In truth, she felt entirely broken. Listing only her physical ails would suffice, though. "My head hurts?" The uncomfortable feeling of a weight compressing her brain, the vague nausea and vertigo, all the hits she had taken to the head, she was near certain she had a concussion. She absently touched her throat again; it felt like something got permanently lodged in it, but she assumed it looked far worse than it felt. "Broken ribs?" she added, unsure if that was the sensation in her side or not. Discomfort and tightness might just be heavy bruising and fractures. "Could probably use some blood. Think I should-"

"You're going to the hospital," Auntie said with finality, stepping away from the bed, most likely to fetch Lan clothes. Lan didn't disagree. There could be a number of things wrong beneath the surface that might hinder her in the future if not treated properly now.

Certainly, tonight hadn't declared the end of her miseries. Hisoka. The Phantom Troupe. The Fan Shi. All problems that she would need to deal with again. The sooner she was well enough to begin reforming Nemmi, the better. God Complex might be her only ability able to stand up against them, and, even then, she doubted her chances. She'd never triggered it before, and a theoretically possible ability wasn't something to stake your life on.

* * *

After closing the door behind her, Lan slid down cheap wood, sitting on the freshly scrubbed floor with an arm propped up on her knee. September eighth marked the beginning of her week-long stay in a hell of her own creation.

Everything was already in place to begin the set of steps required to both reform Nemmi and activate God Complex, Divine Retribution- another quality name from younger Lan to match Nemmi's full title. Auntie had kindly paid the rent on the cheapest- yet still livable- Yorknew apartment for her to use. Lan also felt up to it now, her injures more or less mended. She lightly touched her neck again, the bruised ring an unwelcome reminder days later.

God Complex's first restriction was always the worst. It required Nemmi to be dispersed, either through her own decision outside of battle or through his destruction in battle- with the secondary caveat that she could not purposefully get him destroyed for the express purpose of using God Complex. Additionally, she couldn't tell anyone about the ability.

Meeting the second restriction was twofold. Requirement number one: find a small, boring space devoid of distractions. Today, that meant the apartment's small bathroom. After all, she would be spending an entire week in one room. Bathrooms happened to be the most convenient. Running water so she didn't need to stockpile bottles. A toilet instead of a bucket. And, well, bathtubs were nice to lay in -even if actually bathing went against the ability's restrictions. Second requirement: a single clock or watch present. Preferably one that didn't tick. In the silence, she would go insane listening to it count endless seconds over ta week.

By experience, she knew its main function worked. At the end of the week, Nemmi would be reconstructed to his original parameters- the decision to add more Nen to him hers to make. _Theoretically_ , with the high risks of sitting in a room, unaware of the rest of the world's existence, while also without Nemmi, a threat entering the room should trigger the ability's second effect. That being the spontaneous reconstruction of Nemmi and a brief boost in her Nen's overall strength. She had never been in a situation where it had activated. Hence, she had no idea if it actually worked.

Nemmi himself was a monstrous application of Nen. He used to be attached to her aura like Arri, limited in range and strength, his En rather pitiful. When she was fifteen she realized fighting with him like that was completely impractical. She had decided to create Arri, but, in order to do that without dispersing Nemmi every time she used Arri, she needed a way to separate him, to give him a reserve of energy instead him constantly feeding off her aura, but also keep him pure aura instead of a conjured creature visible to the world. That's when she established the week reformation rule. Then the next time she attached God Complex as a precaution. Limitations on top of limitations, vows thrown in for good measure, what resulted let her live in continual denial.

She sighed, slumping over to rest her forehead on her knee.

In any case, she would be here for a week. And it would be awful. It always was. She only had her thoughts to occupy her, and those were dangerous things when left without distractions. Right now, unwanted flashbacks to a nightmare become reality threatened to replay whenever she moved wrong, whenever she caught sight of the bruise around her throat. And then, because of how this entire week revolved around Nemmi, it… It always dredged up childhood memories best left to rot.

* * *

_\--Past--_

Lanfen sat on the rain muddied ground, tossing another crumb in front of her. The small courtyard, the only outside space she had actual permission to be in, was silent. Like a cemetery would be, she guessed. The small yard _did_ have a grave complete with a makeshift marker.

Though she wanted to add a second.

"Right, Nemmi?" she asked thin air, dumping the rest of the food on the ground to add to the untouched pile. More dead silence. "I thought so." She stood, mud sticking to her skin and clothes, so she could find some pebbles to stack into a marker. Again. She'd been very persistent. He father had been just as persistent about destroying it. He gave attention to weird, usually negative, things; the last week was probably the most attention he paid her, actually. Mostly because he had just learned she'd been sneaking out of the house at night, going off to play with Nemmi and all the other 'forest pests,' for two years.

She understood Nemmi was... Finding out she had been running off alone had pushed him over the edge. Father got fed up with her 'playing with vermin.' Left some poisoned food out. Tricked Nemmi into thinking it was from her. Left him to… with blood leaking from his eyes, body flailing in misery, screeching in compete agony.

Pretending otherwise made it… easier. It let her get back at her father. He _hated_ her denying it. It also sort of lessened the crushing loneliness of losing her friend. Her only friend, since Auntie left…

And she had snapped his neck after getting him poisoned. Some friend she was.

"Lanfen, go back inside immediately!" Mister Shunru promptly stepped outside to come physically drag her back in before he got in trouble. It's almost like she had ditched him inside when he decided to take a nap during her boring Ren lesson- she made it a competition, and he got tired first. She wanted to try more complicated things already. If she couldn't go outside, the least they could do was give her a challenge to occupy her time. "Look at you, soaked and muddy. You'll catch a cold and your father will have my head," he muttered in exasperation, pulling at his hair. It only took him twenty minutes to find her. House wasn't that big either. "I told you not to use Zetsu outside of train- Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady." Ah, he was playing nice.

He reached for her wrist, but she let herself fall backwards, cold mud squelching under her. "I'm playing with Nemmi. Go away."

Mister Shunru looked positively furious. "Quit playing pretend." He bent over to grab at her again. "Now, get-" A kick to the shin and he went face first into the mud.

Lanfen sprung back to her feet, giggling a few times. "He's so slow, isn't he Nemmi?" All talk and no action, he had no real authority over her. For a guy that knew Nen, he was a pushover, too scared to get kicked out and fed to the Bai Ze or Fan Shi. Maybe she could blackmail him into teaching her more. Seemed to be the only time she made progress.

"You little brat," Mister Shunru grumbled as he pushed himself up, clothes stained, glasses opaque. He whipped them off his face, cleaning them with the inside of his shirt. "You have one more chance. Get inside."

"Nope."

He lunged for her, catching the collar of her dress as she tried to run away. "If you need something to do, go practice Ten like I told you to," he said once he had a firm grip on her arm despite the mud and her pulling.

"No, I already know how to do that! Its boring!" She yanked at her arm, but he refused to let go. He took a step, dragging her behind him, slippery mud making it impossible to dig her feet in to protest. "Nemmi and-"

"That bird is dead," he snapped.

Her nails dug into his fingers as she tried to pry them from her wrist. His aura got in the way of progress. "I want to know how to do that! I want-"

He ripped her fingers off his hand, grabbing her other wrist to carry her in front of him while she kicked her legs. And his, but that hardly mattered with his Nen surrounding him. It wasn't fair. "Get in the house before your father notices. It's bad enough you're talking to that dead bird again. If he sees this, he'll-"

"He's not," she hissed at him, her aura lashing out. She felt blood drip down her wrists before he dropped her to the ground, cursing under his breath. And he told her making her aura like sharpened metal but flexible would be difficult, that he wasn't going to teach her how. Well, she did it on her own! Even if she did end up cutting her hands to ribbons trying. Even if she did get sentenced to a long stay in her room for damaging herself. "He's not dead," she repeated. "And I'm not going inside until you promise to teach me more than basics. Otherwise-"

"Shunru."

Silence fell over the courtyard.

"I am so sorry, sir." Mister Shunru automatically bowed in apology, about ready to kiss her father's feet. "She-"

"I don't care what she did," Father said flatly. "You were supposed to be watching her, keeping her out of trouble. And what do I see?" he pointed at her, continuing to speak as if she wasn't there. "She is outside after dark, completely filthy, and you had your hands on her again." He didn't care. Not really. She already knew what the next words out of his tightly clenched jaw would be. "You know how important she is! She's what will dig the Paijin out of the grave Fanghe buried us in. If she ends up dead now, it's over."

Lanfen's attention drifted from the back and forth of profuse apologies and angry threats. She'd heard it all before. Maybe Father would actually go through with killing him this time; he did with one of the guys that brought in supplies. Incapable people that failed to do their job perfectly were dealt with harshly, she had learned. She went back to collecting pebbles, building a small grave marker next to the larger one.

"Lanfen," Father said as Mister Shunru scurried away like a frightened rabbit. "Go inside. Now." She added another stone, her back to him. "I told you to stop that. It's disrespectful." Footsteps in sticky mud, he closed the distance between them. Another stone. "Get inside, or else." Another stone, no acknowledgement. "That's it!"

Rocks flew as he kicked the pile aside, grabbing the back of her dress to haul her to her feet. Hands on her shoulders, he tried to get her eyes to meet his. She looked to the side, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together as she pulled at a loose string on her dress. He grabbed her chin to force her attention forward.

"If you don't go inside, clean up, and listen to Shunru, you're getting locked in your room again until you learn to behave," he said, lowered voice promising more misery than his shouting ever could. "Do you understand? I'm doing what's best for this family. You think you'd be grateful for that. For everything I've done for you. Instead you act like Fanghe." He hated Fanghe more than anything. If Lanfen didn't have a clue to finding her sister's item, she felt like her father would hate her just as much. Only useful people were kept around… And he always said she had been an accident in the first place. Just… Just like Fanghe had been.

"You killed Nemmi," she mumbled, eyes darting to the side. She felt a bit scared to actually shout her frustrations in his face but still determined to prove she had reason to be upset. That she wasn't just like Fanghe. That killing Nemmi wasn't something she should be grateful for. That she didn't like being locked away, unable to do anything without first asking permission or being escorted around like a toddler.

"Again, with that damn pest-ridden bird," he cursed, stepping back from Lanfen to grip empty air as he paced in agitation. He would have hit anyone else by now. But, again, whatever Fanghe had done to her made him hesitate, even if just a tiny bit. "Maybe if you didn't sneak out, I wouldn't have had to kill the thing! Do you know what's waiting out there for you? What the Fan Shi would do to you if they found you? I am _protecting_ you." He stopped, preening over his appearance before quietly muttering, "Damn Meiling, filling your head with all that adventure nonsense."

"Is Auntie ever coming home?" She… she wondered if he killed her. When she first left, he said he would. "Can I talk to her?" She knew the number since Auntie slipped it to her before leaving, but Father kept the satellite phone locked away. Like all of his precious possessions.

"No," he snapped with finality, just like every other time she had asked. "Now be a good girl and go do as you were told."

He took a few steps before looking back over his shoulder, Lanfen's feet still firmly planted in the mud. She glared back at him stubbornly.

His patience broke.

She slipped in the mud trying to dart out of his reach. He tripped over her, landing on soupy ground, grabbing her ankle before she could scramble way. She kicked his shoulder, making him say words she didn't know existed. In the end, he hauled himself back to his feet, holding her arms behind her back before making her match forward in reluctant defeat. Until, in a final form of resistance, she went limp so he had to drag her through the halls, a trail of mud left on wooden floors.

She didn't want to find out what he would do if she used her Nen on him. Not at all. She'd seen him aim a pistol at Mister Shunru before. For all his complaints of her maybe getting injured, she didn't trust him to not hurt her in the name of protecting her from her own stupidity. He might not shoot her, but he could hit her. He could do more. He would inevitably find a way to justify it.

He threw her into her room, the door slamming in front of her as she tried to rush back out. Metal clicked into place to seal her in her glorified cage. Her fingers curled into a tight fist, Nen flowing over her, before she smashed her hand into the door. Another outline of knuckles was left in thick metal. Her hand felt numb after just one strike. The walls were reinforced. She'd tried punching holes through those too, her aura still not strong enough, hours of beating an area ineffective- mostly because Mister Shunru would come stop her. What passed as her room, as a shelter against the Fan Shi, formerly a large safe is she had to guess, was a metal box meant to keep everything out. It was probably more effective at keeping her in.

"I hate you!" she screamed, punching the metal again, forgetting to use Ten. She watched as blood ran down her knuckles. Unwanted tears began to form.

"You're staying in there until you can act like a proper young lady," her father shouted to be heard through metal. "Get it through your head that I'm doing what's best for you! For all of us!"

"Was letting Mommy die really the best for us!?" she yelled back, hitting them both where it hurt. She bit her lip as she sat on the ground, wiping an arm across her face. Father kicked the door with a loud bang, cursing before leaving her to stew in her room again.

"Nemmi," she mumbled, smearing more tear-dampened mud around her face, "I don't want to be here anymore. Why didn't Auntie take me with her? Why did Mommy have to get sick?"

Her father was all she had left, and he cared more about the family name than the family itself. He promised Auntie would never come back, hinting that he probably had her killed for trying to leave. All because she might tell the Fan Shi where they were if she got captured. All because of Fanghe's stupid item. And Mommy… He wouldn't even let Mommy leave to get treatment. Instead he watched as she faded away, got sicker and sicker until she could hardly move, while he complained how it was the Fan Shi's fault. Fanghe's fault. Then he dared to act sad when she died. Like none of it was his fault. _Nothing_ was ever his fault. Nope. The person in control could push blame wherever they liked.

"Y-you're right, Nemmi," she sniffled a few minutes later, pulling freezing, mud stained cloth over her head. "I'll change before I get sick too. Th-then we can play until bedtime. Tic-tac-toe sound good?" The silence stung. "O-okay. I'll find some paper."

**…**

The smell of smoke, the heat of an inferno, and the screams of the damned ejected her from a sound sleep. She scrambled to her feet, sleep haze giving way to blind panic. A moment frozen in terror passed before she ran to the door. Metal seared her fingertips. The fire was right outside the door, metal barring its spread as well as her escape.

The screams, the sound of metal twisting, the crackling of flames as they devoured everything, a soundtrack to a nightmare. The Fan Shi. The Fan Shi had found them. They were killing everyone. They'd kill her, just like Father always threatened they would. Lanfen's body quaked as she stared at the heavy locked door, waiting. Waiting for her father to come save her. For anyone to save her. The door never moved. The screams died away, a static hum replacing them. Her skin felt sticky from the rising temperature while also crawling as though ants swarmed over her, biting down to rip at flesh. Smoke leaked in through the vents to slowly poison the air.

She was alone. And trapped. And scared. She didn't know what to do, how to get out. She wanted someone, anyone to help her. She wanted her father. She wanted Auntie. She wanted Mommy. Tears started to fall. She'd die here, she realized. So suddenly, no chance to even consider the idea. She didn't want to die here. She'd start on fire and burn to death. Or get choked by the smoke clouding the air. Or the Fan Shi would take her and cut her apart looking for that clue.

A tug at her aura startled her back into reality. Through a blur of tears, she looked to her feet. An open beak, a silent squawk, the sound a vivid hallucination.

"N-Nemmi?" she asked, staring at the pale blue bird on the ground, its body attached to her by a strand of aura. An imaginary chirp. It… It was him. No longer shimmering black, the crow was aura. She… she had been trying to shape her aura into him, constantly imagining him at her side, practicing since being caged in her room days ago but… But she didn't think…

He tried to scurry to the other wall, pulling at her aura as the distance grew. She followed, distracted, confused. A flap of his wings, an awkward dive into the wall, and metal screeched as a cut appeared.

"We… we can cut our way out." She would die if she didn't try to do something. She'd never tried to use her aura like this before, the grating noise much too loud under normal circumstances. Still was, but the flames, the sound of the house toppling over as fire ate away supports, it might be enough to cover it.

Nemmi slammed into the wall again, another slash crossing over the first. She needed to use more aura, but they'd find her even quicker if she did. She had to use Zetsu, but then Nemmi would disappear, right? No, no. There had to be some way to do this. To hide aura while still being able to use it. He hit the wall again. Through trial and error, Nemmi almost disappearing a few times as she accidentally drew her aura back, she hit some sort of balance. Figured out some sort of technique.

By the time she had a hole large enough to squeeze through, smoke obscured the room, forcing her to stifle coughs. Sharp metal scraped her skin apart as she pulled herself out into a pitch-black hall thick with more choking smoke. She helplessly covered her mouth and nose, eyes burning, the air suffocating her slowly. Nemmi lead the way, faint blue glow almost lost in the brilliant orange of flames racing from opposite ends of the hall to box her in again.

Wood was much easier to slice through.

Outside was a relief until shouting broke the silence. Lanfen scrambled to hid in the trees, stepping over the burnt husks of dead bugs and patches of flame-lit leaves. She froze up, her hand snapped over her mouth as she desperately tried to hide continuous coughs.

Two men fighting, bodies silhouettes against flames, voices forever engrained in her mind.

"Are you fucking serious!? Look what you did!"

"What _I_ did? The fire wasn't my doing! And you lit them on fire! Do you know-"

"You fucking spread it everywhere! Shit dude, where's Lanfen? We're fucked if we killed her."

"If _you_ killed her! You aren't taking me down with you. Now shut up and keep looking! I can't do all the work."

Nemmi perching on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Burning lungs, her chest tight, with sudden tension in her head, the smoke was getting to her. Lanfen took off in the opposite direction, into the surrounding woods, blindly running anywhere but there while she still could.

She was too terrified to look back.

_\--End--_

* * *

A tug at her aura made her open her eyes and push herself off cold tiled floor. Nemmi chirped happily, a weak smile pulling at her lips. "Hey there," she whispered, voice hoarse from disuse, inviting him onto her lap. She gingerly patted his head. Aura… aura at least felt warm, even if it was still a far cry from soft and sleek feathers.

The week was over. For a few moments, she just sat on the floor, pouring a touch more Nen into Nemmi so he had ample aura to work with. She held her arm up, Nemmi carefully shuffling on before she stood.

"I feel absolutely gross," she said as Nemmi hopped onto the counter, etching lines into cheap vinyl. She turned on the shower before beginning to pull off wrinkled, rancid clothes. It's almost like she sweat a ridiculous amount while holding Ren as long as possible before blissfully passing out on the floor. Few other things to do than overthink, sleeping difficult unless she exhausted herself first. "At least I get a lot of practice in during the week," she mumbled, Nemmi's version of laughter making her roll her eyes.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror, Nemmi falling silent with her. Fading yellow, the last hints of a bruise, still marked her neck. The cut on her shoulder healed unevenly, the faintest line of a scar now decorating her skin. She felt over the left side of her head, short hairs already filling in the undercut.

Nemmi tilted his head at her.

Lan dropped her hand back to her side. "I'm bored of it," she told him flatly, ready to grow her hair out again. It'd served its purpose as a reminder, as a promise to herself. Well, she more or less got what she had wanted. She had fought him again. She relearned how abysmally inept she was by comparison. And she had missed out on the satisfaction of seeing him covered in wounds, of hearing any praise he had to offer her. Instead, he choked her out and abandoned her for more interesting prey. Just as he always promised he would.

Nemmi hopped back onto her shoulder as she stepped into the shower, needing a distraction before her thoughts obsessed over the disappointment and the anger and the fear that that moment inflicted. Like a raw wound left to fester, it'd take time to heal, while leaving a craterous scar as a permanent reminder.

After drying off, dropping wet towels on the ground as she left the accursed bathroom behind, she grabbed her phone off the charger. Nemmi jumped onto the bed as she flopped down next to him. As popular as ever, she had only received one message over the span of a week. From a spiderweb instead of card suits.

_"Travel east if you want help dealing with the Fan Shi."_

Curious, how it became an invitation rather than a demand. She wondered what had happened between Hisoka and the Troupe for Chrollo to be politely offering his former hostage help rather than tracking her down to drag her along with him.

"I know, Nemmi," she mumbled as he squawked in her ear. "Fuck them."

She reluctantly pushed herself up, the questionably old mattress and scratchy sheets infinitely more comfortable than the bathroom floor had been. She dumped the contents of her travel bag on the bed: her Hunter outfit.

"We're going to go be a Hunter for a while instead of dealing with actual issues," she said as she began getting dressed. It'd be a welcome break from reality. She didn't want to think about Hisoka, Chrollo, or the Fan Shi. She wanted to go take her frustrations out on unsuspecting poachers in the most violent of manners possible. Because at least then she felt in control, instead of like a chew toy hiding treats being pulled apart by a pack of starving dogs.

"I have a _lot_ of frustrations," she muttered, stifling bloodlust, loathing, and rage.

Nemmi returned to her shoulder as she pulled on the last layer of her outfit. She grabbed her wig and makeup to unfortunately return to the bathroom to finish dressing up.

On the way, her foot caught on a pile of abandoned clothes. She stared at the embroidered skull on the back of the vest a few moments, considering it with narrowed eyes, before picking it off the floor. A toss to the side and it hit the wall, sliding into the trashcan.


	19. The Chase: The Flight

_October 26th_

She wordlessly answered the call after ten fruitless minutes of silencing him. Airship rides were just so terribly boring that Hisoka had decided to make a game out of annoying her the moment she tried to ignore him. Again. So irritatingly distant since Yorknew…

"Not even a hello, darling?" he said at her silent greeting, the static noise of wind filling the background- also some sort of obnoxious bird's screeching. She remained silent. "I've been dreadfully bored lately, fledgling. Want to have some fun with me?"

Because he had found something promising. Poor, Nen-less Chrollo had recently contacted him with some interesting news. He found a way to fix himself. Without the Troupe, well, he was unfortunately left with Hisoka as help. Must be something rather dangerous for Chrollo to not pursue it himself, Nen or not. The guy was resourceful. Mouthwateringly so. Hisoka had been rather… disappointed, to put it lightly, about their date being ruined by Chrollo's sudden lack of Nen. If there was an opportunity to get it back, for his services to be repaid with a fight, then Hisoka would happily go along with it.

He wanted to take Lan with, if only as a bit of entertainment in slow moments. He didn't know what her issue was, why she had so blatantly distanced herself from him. She rarely sent him any texts anymore. What she did send, about mid-September before she truly began ignoring him, were self-serving questions like 'what happened with the Troupe?' or 'did you break your favorite toy, or did he figure you out?' Any conversations he tried to start lately were either ignored or halfheartedly answered, no more delightful mortification present even as he compared her to unripe fruit.

Even mentioning that he found out her name, her full name, had been met with a painfully dull response. No panic or even anger, she all but brushed it aside when he refused to say how he had learned it. Lan _fen_ had neglected to even tell him her entire first name. From the beginning, she had been trying to distance herself from him, lied to him to keep him out of her personal affairs and away from her past. Her lack of response _wounded_ him. Lying to that extent, the matter was more than just important to her. Her life appeared to revolve around it. Him knowing her name after such measures to hide it, it should have driven her insane, made her squirm uncomfortably. Instead she pulled away entirely while feigning indifference. This irritated him terribly, irrationally.

This was the first time she had spurred his attention so, and he didn't like it at all. He wanted to know what she was so preoccupied with that she could ignore him.

"I'm busy," she answered, disinterested in even hearing him out today.

"Are you still upset by what happened in Yorknew?" he teased, words hiding an edge. It was when this started, yet he didn't understand why she would be so upset. He understood why she had disappeared after he tricked her at the arena- thinking you had a fight only to learn otherwise was _very_ disappointing- but this was different. She knew exactly what a rematch meant. Her attitude went beyond simple pettiness in losing. If anything, she should be grateful he did spare her. It was one of the greatest compliments he could pay someone. She knew that.

Even if sparing her had been a bit of an accident brought on by a momentary distraction, he remarkably still found some humor in her life. Looking into the Paijin lead to rumors of an item capable of enhancing or disrupting aura when used on someone. That secondary aura attached to hers, what had distracted him in the final moments before finishing her off, wasn't her doing. It was most likely some aftereffect of that item's use. Chrollo's interest had been in the item, not her. In fact, darling Lan might become boring once he had what he wanted from her. She was maybe worth another fight, but, beyond that, her potential might soon be exhausted. And that potential might not have even been hers to begin with but born of that item. The miraculous fact he still remembered her, wanted her, she should be more grateful.

The dead pause screamed _yes_.

"Are you expecting an apology, darling?" he asked overly sweetly, underlyingly bitterly. Again, Lan knew full well what she had gotten herself into when asking him for a rematch. She couldn't act like this was his fault.

"No," she stressed, voice dropping lower, threatening to become a frustrated growl. He imagined she had a cute little scowl fighting its way onto her face. "I have a life, Hisoka. I'm not at your beck and call whenever you get a tiny bit bored. Pester someone else."

Sudden silence over a dead line, she had hung up on him. The offence he felt made his smile disappear, no audience there to save face with anyway. Frustrating, temperamental girl…

"Fine, little fledgling," he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket to return to stacking a house of cards. "I don't mind chasing what I want."

But first, he would play this petty game with her since that's what she wanted. He would go _pester_ Chrollo since she so desperately wanted to be left to her supposedly busy life. The next time she wanted something, see if he showed any interest…

* * *

Lanfen sat back down across from Knuckle in a huff, patting her lap a few times before the lanky year-old griffon hawk bounded back to her, his viciously curved beak wide open, winged arms tucked away awkwardly, cat-like paws digging into soil, and tail swishing behind him. Windchime, affectionately nicknamed Jingly by Lanfen- though she'd glare if you said it was her idea- crashed back into her lap, whistling happily as she returned to petting him like the phone call had never happened. The two vicious predators almost looked cute sitting in a flowery meadow, bathed in afternoon sunshine. Almost like Jingly didn't just tear apart a deer unfortunate enough to wander into sanctuary grounds. Like Lanfen didn't just have a malicious cloud of bone-chilling aura hanging over her head.

"You were saying," she said flatly when he didn't catch the nonexistent cue to continue their conversation like it hadn't been interrupted by the incessant ringing of her phone no matter how many times she hung up on the caller. Earlier, she had been hiding giggles behind her hand as Jingly pounced, missed the deer, and face-planted in the dirt. That jerk definitely soured her mood.

"Right," Knuckle started again, nearly shouting with enthusiasm, "I found a job lead for you. Sounds like pretty serious stuff this time!" The last job he had directed her way had been too easy, apparently. For someone mooching off him to find jobs, she could be a little demanding. Then again, that was just how Lanfen was. He also felt bad for her since her license had gotten stolen in September, all her cash drained by mid-October- places needed to learn to actually _check_ that the license belonged to the user instead of just going with it. But he was paying for all the sanctuary expenses now, so, as her business partner, he was a little peeved she remained so choosy with jobs. "The bastard was put on the blacklist a few days ago after making off with some bugs from Kakin." Blacklist had her attention right away, just like he thought it would. Rare for poachers to make it onto the blacklist after one hit- much to both of their annoyance. "Bugs called _chimera ants_ , quarantine level one."

"What do they do?" Lanfen interrupted, sparkle in her eyes, Jingly chirping in displeasure as she stopped petting him. Knuckle crossed his arms, leaning back in victory. He knew she would like them.

"They reproduce quickly, while also taking on the traits of the things they eat. They only grow to about ten centimeters, but swarms can strip a body down in no time flat." Intense as far as bugs went; probably a bad deal if they got any bigger. Lanfen looked enthralled, to put it lightly. "A few Hunters are surveying them already. Apparently, this poacher just showed up and somehow made off with a dozen soldier ants and a queen without getting bit to hell. Smuggled 'em across the ocean too. Tip came in that he was spotted at the Saherta border a day or so ago. You want to go for this one?"

"Yes," flew out of her mouth without a moment of hesitation. "Did they not list a name?" she added, trying to hide overenthusiasm.

Knuckle shook his head before digging his phone out of his pocket to send her the blurry photo the site posted. No records seemed to be attached to the guy, so it might be a first offence, or he might have come from an area that kept poor records. The latter at least narrowed down the list of places he might retreat to, though. Lanfen studied the picture with a slight frown, fingers fiddling with Jingly's feathers in place of fabric. A nervous tick.

"Know him or something?" he asked as the silence dragged on for a while, Lanfen continuing to fidget.

"Huh?" Her eyes snapped back to his face briefly before redirecting to Jingly. "It's blurry. They didn't have a better photo?" She paused, eyes narrowed slightly as she looked back at her phone. Something about the guy bothered her. "Anything else I should know, Knuckle?" Her stare pinned him to his spot as she challenged him to call her on the subject change.

Once she adamantly decided to not talk about something, the discussion ended, and the arguing began. Happened a lot more than Knuckle would like; he considered her a friend, after all. She didn't need to hold herself at such a distance. Seriously, he knew almost nothing about her outside of what she did as a Hunter. Over the last month, she seemed quieter, more irritable, too. Like something was really bothering her. Probably that jerk Hisoka again- the amount of times she lost her cool while on the phone with that guy, he knew exactly how to get on her nerves, yet she kept talking to him.

"Not right now." Best to not waste her patience on this. He had something else to ask sure to boil him in scalding water. "Hey, Lanfen, have you heard anything about your license lately?" He knew Morel was helping her look- Knuckle admittedly kept an ear out for any information too- but even with her money disappearing, they had nothing solid. It was hard to believe a simple pickpocket grabbed it without her noticing; she knew something but refused to share it with them. They could probably find it if she would just tell them, although trying to explain that to her hadn't gotten her to spill anything.

He got shot down immediately with an unenthused, "Have you?"

"I'm just trying to help," Knuckle sighed, voice lowered from a shout to hopefully calm the situation while continuing to discuss it. "If you can't take the guy that stole it alone, we'll all-"

"Look," she finally abated, glancing to the side in a rare moment of honesty, "the man who stole it, if he doesn't sell it, I'm not getting it back. He's not someone we can fight without casualties. Tell Morel that as well."

That had him more concerned. She didn't consider them weak; she just considered whoever stole her license insanely strong. So much so that even _she_ didn't want to fight him, and that said something- she adored dangerous things to an unhealthy degree. She was trying to avoid them getting involved in her personal problems more than necessary. Again. Trying to protect them from it, he guessed. For her often-cold attitude towards people, for her outright terrifying disregard when killing poachers, when she cared about something, she cared a lot.

She gently shooed Jingly out of her lap before standing, brushing feathers and grass from her pants to avoid looking back at him. "Just… stop bothering me about it now." She began walking away to end the conversation.

"Good luck!" he called after her, hoping she left on a better note than him 'pestering her.' "I'll send any more info I get your way!"

Lanfen glanced over her shoulder, giving a small wave in goodbye. Surprisingly, she added "Thanks, Knuckle." 

* * *

Lan ducked behind a tree, peeking around while still in Zetsu, Nemmi perching on a branch to closely monitor the target. The nameless man finished the newbie Hunter gutsy enough to confront him directly. Black hair pulled into a loose ponytail, glasses sliding down his nose, black frames cutting across blue-grey eyes, and dressed a bit too nicely in a button down and slacks, this was, without a doubt, the poacher from the photo Knuckle had given her three days ago. That vague sense of familiarity still clung to him. She- with Knuckle's help- had tracked him to a suburb of Rendev, a city on the slopes of the central mountain range in Saherta.

He made short work of the Hunter despite his rather lean, frail-looking build. The swarm of gnats around the guy dispersed as soon as the Hunter mysteriously dropped to the ground in an unconscious, dying pile. The man had no visible weapons on him; she also didn't see any insects remotely ant-shaped with him. The gnats were irritating but harmless as a few buzzed by her face. Her guess would be a manipulator. He probably had small amounts of Nen in the cloud of gnats to control them.

Just as she came out of Zetsu, more gnats gathering on her to make her skin crawl, the man turned her direction. The minor increase in his aura, the sensation of bugs marching on skin and buzzing in her ears made her unusually tense. She'd felt worse aura, after all. This shouldn't bother her. She quickly brushed aside the feeling as anticipation.

A final appraisal and she decided she could take him.

A signal to Nemmi made her heart pound with the edge of an adrenaline rush. He soundlessly took to the air to circle around to the man's back. As Nemmi prepared to descend, Lan left cover, letting her aura flare as she ran directly for the man. His focus went to her, gnats regathering around him. _Too easy…_ Nemmi swooped downward, wing aimed for his spine, cutting through the swarm and-

The man's attention shot to Nemmi, his body whipping around as he raised his arm. Nemmi sliced into his forearm, a thin line of blood staining white fabric. Her eyes narrowed as she charged forward. _Not bad for a last-minute block. He's not using his full strength yet either._ Lan side-stepped as the man turned back to her, Arri enveloping her arm to meet his as he aimed an uppercut at her jaw. Another clash of aura. More superficial cuts ran the length of his arm. He retreated a few steps backward, studying his injuries, crooked smile twitching to form on his lips.

She stepped forward, Nemmi cutting another swath through the swarm, when the man let his Ren flare. She froze. Her heart pounded out of her chest, lump forming in her throat while her stomach dropped into a pit, at the pin-prick burn on her skin, of phantom bugs biting exposed flesh, the buzz in her ears turning into the chaotic din of a thousand wingbeats. Something was wrong. Very wrong. _Familiar._ With shaking hands and her teeth buried in her lip, she jumped away. Nemmi landed in front of her, feathers raised as he stood protectively at her feet.

His expression shifted as he laughed, his stance relaxing as he pushed his glasses back into place. "Lanfen?"

His voice made the color drain from her face. She recognized it. She recognized it from memories that turned dreams to nightmares for years. His aura, the bite and the buzz, mentally mixed with crackling flames, it completed the image. He was… He was one that…

"When she said you were dressed up like Fanghe, I thought she was making a bad joke." He looked over her disguise, shaking his head with another few chuckles. "Drawing on Jingyi's moles like that, it's a cute touch. You still look more like your father, though."

She took another hesitant step back before she swallowed down panic- or at least tried. Bloodlust failed to stifle the irritating, irrational fear threatening to color her aura.

"Do you recognize me?"

 _Yes_ , she mentally hissed. Not his name, and his face only brought with it vague familiarity, but she recognized him. The interest in bugs… The pin-board butterfly collection in her mother's belongings had been a gift from him. His voice and aura, he had attacked the compound, almost caused her to suffocate from smoke inhalation, almost baked her in a metal oven. Fan Shi.

"No? I suppose you were pretty young," he sighed, pulling the wrinkles out of his shirt. "My name is Virgil."

A heavy pause filled the air, the whirr of thousands of gnats filling the silence. While acting casual, Virgil didn't drop his guard. The swarm of insects _were_ his defense. She pieced it together while half-listening to him ramble, using the last seconds she had before her brain left her to panic and adrenaline. He could sense them dying as they splattered against Nemmi. He felt them gathering on her to give away her location despite being in Zetsu. Another ability probably went towards offense. Gnats wouldn't be strong enough to do anything even if enhanced and controlled by Nen. The chimera ants sounded more effective in that regard- yet she still saw no sign of them, or any other bugs for that matter.

"You know, Joan and I were absolutely convinced that we had killed you." He smiled, adding as an afterthought, "On accident, of course." An errant flare in bloodlust at the remark had him studying her again. This time with Gyo, easily catching sight of Nemmi as the bird stubbornly stood in front of her. "I have to say, despite not learning from Fanghe, you're not bad. Interesting stuff you've got going on here." He loosely motioned between Nemmi and her before hooking a thumb into his pants pocket and leaning back. "I mean, that Nen-user we fought that day, was he supposed to be your teacher? His head exploded after a single punch from Joan. It was absolutely pathetic."

The guy was more than chatty. Worse, he was content talking despite her not saying a word in response- although, now that she'd calmed down a shred during his ridiculous monologue, she could probably use his rambling to her advantage. He wasn't half as terrifying as the two Fan Shi at Heaven's Arena. Her voice would still work well enough to make demands while hiding fear.

"Shame about Jingyi, though." The comment made her words catch in her throat. The sore subject made her clench her hands, nails digging into her palms with near blood-drawing force, to keep herself from recklessly charging at him. Virgil kept talking. "We'd been hoping to take her back with us too, but I guess she got sick again without Minji monitoring her condition, huh? Libao just let her die? Didn't take her to a hospital or anything?" The edge of anger that crept into his voice still paled in comparison to the rush of malice in her aura.

"What do you want?" she finally ground out, sick of his voice. She wanted to take his damn head off for bringing up her mother. For daring to be upset when he had been part of the problem. If the Fan Shi hadn't threatened to kill them, made her father obsess over that damn item, her mother…

He raised an eyebrow before shrugging. "I'm sure you already have a general idea. Oversharing will land me in trouble." Virgil adjusted his glasses again, the swarm of bugs swelling as they began to spread out. "Now," he said, voice lowered, pulse of aura making her skin crawl, "do you want to make this difficult on yourself or not?"

Lan forced herself to stand firmly in place. Nemmi caught the signal to retake to the air as the atmosphere shifted back to battle-anticipatory. "You expect me to come willingly?" she asked, covering herself in a layer of aura, ready to form Arri at a moment's notice.

"Not at all." He shrugged dismissively, like he _had_ hoped she would cooperate without a fight. "I bet Libao told you all sorts of lies about us. About Fanghe. You probably hate us more than anything else."

"And why should I believe you?" Didn't matter what they wanted; the damage was done. They had already ruined her childhood, any goals they had now worthless to her. A reason why, that's what she wanted before tearing the bastard apart and sending a message to the rest of the Fan Shi. This guy, at least, she felt she could stand up to. No way was he stronger than Hisoka. Not even close.

Virgil smiled as her tone broke away from indifference into complete suspicion. "Because we need you. The item Fanghe left behind, we want it back." Old news. "We want to use it to fulfill her goal."

"And what would that be?" Her father said it was to destroy the Paijin out of spite. Well, that had already been accomplished. Auntie and she had zero will to bring back a group of human and drug traffickers. Auntie had been convinced Fanghe felt jilted over Father declaring one of their brothers the next family head on the sole merit of him being the first born _male_ child. With Fanghe dead, what would be the point of seeking revenge? It's not like she could be brought back to take over a dead family's business.

"Well, with the Paijin all but crushed already, we'd use it to crush the Bai Ze, take Anchi for ourselves. Fanghe absolutely loathed the corruption and-"

"You're kidding, right?" she interrupted, holding back a bitter laugh. Making Fanghe sound like a saint of any variety… Bullshit. Lan might not be a model citizen herself, but Fanghe? The woman joined the Hunter Association to learn Nen and promptly killed her instructor after accomplishing her goal. She used a bunch of _kids_ to make a military force, made them act as a mercenary group that went around killing people for the mafia for money to fuel her own ambitions. Apparently, she brainwashed them as well. Fanghe, hate corruption? No, she was the definition of it. That might be the only thing Lan trusted her father hadn't lied about. Fanghe's actions might haunt her like a vengeful spirit, but that wasn't even her main issue. It was these leftovers coming after her. "The item, how am I a clue to finding it?"

"Demanding now, aren't you?" Avoidance. She glared at him as he stubbornly refused to continue, sneer curling his lips.

"Answer."

"Maybe I don't know," he mocked, words an obvious lie as his eyes lit with infuriating amusement. "It's been a nice chat, but I guess you're going to be difficult."

The statement held finality.

Lan rushed forward, concentrating Arri over her arm, Nemmi shooting into the sky. She aimed for Virgil's left side as Nemmi took the right. In the split second between preparation and attack, Virgil divided his aura, her arm sliding over his as he blocked and took a step back. Nemmi's wing grazed his shoulder instead of taking his arm off as he half-crouched, another single step aiding a narrow dodge.

She spun on her heel in time to meet a swarm of hundreds of shiny black gnats. The cloud quickly obscured her vision in a sea of dots. Arri formed over her body expectantly. An aura enhanced fist slammed into her cheek, gliding over her Nen, no harm done to either. An equal match strength-wise, it gave her a glimmer of hope. Hope that was quickly tinged with doubt, as the experience gap might come back to haunt her again.

Nemmi dived, clearing another trail through the gnats, missing Virgil as he sensed the path of destruction.

"Your aura feels like a blade, just like Adalei said," Virgil commented, adjusting his glasses _again_ during the brief pause.

"Why can we pick up impressions in each other's aura like this?" Only took a few encounters for it to make it through her thick skull. She mentally noted another fact in addition to the aura sensitivity. The wounds on his arms, he barely acknowledged them as they were inflicted, continuing to ignore them now. He didn't feel pain. Didn't register it at all- unlike odd Hisoka, who just happened to enjoy the feeling, but he was definitely the exception not the standard.

"Aftereffect of the Nen-item," he helpfully supplied, his constant chattering good for something at least. "Honestly, you're almost a member of the Fan Shi already. Make it easy on yourself. Give up."

Her pride screamed _no_. The Fan Shi wouldn't be getting what they wanted without a fight. They didn't get to destroy her life, force their way back into it when she had some of the pieces glued back together, and get rewarded with submission.

Conversation ceased as she ran forward again, Arri over her hand, aim low. She left him two openings. He chose to stand in place, to strike at her neck after dodging her. A shift in her balance and she slid underneath his arm, hand tearing apart the ground before Arri materialized fully, teeth snapping over his calf. A pull and he stumbled. Surprise blended with disgust on Virgil's face, satisfaction threatening to make her smile too soon. Nemmi tucked in his wings for another dive as Virgil adjusted his aura to keep his leg from being torn off or pulled out from under him.

She felt something latch onto her leg.

Like lightning, she rolled to the side, sprinting a few steps as she worked to redirect Arri over her body. It fell from her leg with a noticeable thud. She whipped around, now questioning what had been on her for it to make such a loud sound. A wounded scorpion the size of a toddler struggled to stand. Brilliant red, white painting its carapace with five distinct splotches, her heart leapt to her throat. Sun-gazer scorpion. Highly venomous, toxins causing intense, prolonged hallucinations while paralyzing the body for five or more hours with one sting. Name derived from the fact you fall over on your back after being stung to stare directly into the sun while going insane. An armor-like exoskeleton. Uncommon enough that she bit her lip in mild regret.

"Nemmi," she called, not willing to risk getting close to finish it off herself.

Wings. The beating of large wings ripped her attention from the scorpion and back towards Virgil. Several wasps hovered in the air around him, bodies the size of her head, stingers easily ten centimeters while their mandibles were just as impressive. Yellow body, black and purple bands over the thorax. Nothing. She had no idea what they were. Considering his plan to take her alive, they weren't immediately deadly, but could likely paralyze or otherwise disable her.

They all came at her at once, joined by the cloud of gnats that just didn't seem willing to disappear. She began cutting through the gnats before they could blind her. The wasps hung back, buzzing just out of reach. A step forward-

Movement. Right side, high. She raised her arm in the last second possible, Virgil's fist digging in with enough force to bruise through what aura she managed to redirect to block. He retreated the next second, Nen rushing from his hand to redistribute defensively. Nemmi finished picking apart the scorpion, flying back into the air, searching for another opening.

An enhancement technique. One too strong for a manipulator. The sheer number of bugs, now that she thought about it, there were too many to control at once. At least with direct, concrete orders, and this was too controlled to be vague commands. Something else. Risking Gyo right now wasn't an option. A single sting from these things could be the end of her resistance. She needed to be careful with her aura use.

A wasp slammed into her shoulder, mandibles ripping into her shirt to threaten skin. Either his Nen had given them extra strength, or these were incredibly powerful wasps- and she felt she should have heard of them before if that was the case. Just as she flared Arri at her shoulder to kill the wasp, something struck her left leg to cling to fabric. Another scorp-

"Shit," she said under her breath as two more crashed into her, one on her back, another on her right leg. Immediately she covered herself in Arri, not enough time to change to defensive Nen, letting herself fall backwards to force spikes of aura through sturdy armor. The crunch and spatter made her nose scrunch.

Nemmi sliced through a horde of wasps moving in while she was on the ground. She hopped back to her feet, eyes scanning for Virgil who had become suspiciously inactive. More wasps kept appearing from nowhere. No matter how many Nemmi cut down, the number didn't seem to be decreasing. Instead, they began encircling them.

Gnats rushed to her face. A living blanket covered her skin, walked into her eyes, flew up her nose, nearly made her vomit as she swallowed a mouthful to breath. They cut off her senses. Anticipating scorpions or wasps to approach, in a desperate bid to escape thousands of legs parading over her body, she covered herself in Arri and threw herself back onto the ground roll. Something large crunched beneath her. Now covered in the tiny shredded bodies of gnats, she pushed herself to her hands and knees. She fought gagging as she spit, saliva colored with a disgusting number of black flecks. Those that escaped the first massacre zoomed in front of her eyes just outside the immediate reach of Arri.

The air was knocked from her lungs with a strong kick to her back. Her face pressed into the ground as Virgil placed a heavy foot on her head. He still had his aura protectively focused over his foot with Ko. Arri couldn't break through while spread over her body. Shift the flow and her head would be smashed into a fresh crater in the ground, probably knock her out- she had headaches two weeks following her last concussion, she didn't need more.

"Ready to give up yet?" he asked, voice infuriating as he forced her mouth into the dirt. "Or are you set on finding out what a sun-gazer's sting is like?"

With her cheek in the dirt, she had a prime view of two more scorpions scuttling towards her. Maybe she hadn't given Virgil enough credit. Bugs were bugs, but damn if he didn't know how to utilize them. Too bad he left a gigantic opening by concentrating his aura in one place.

_It's over for you, bastard. Nemmi will-_

He kicked off into a run using her head as a launching pad. Her face turned into the soil before she pushed herself off the ground and to her feet in one move. Virgil spun around only a few steps away, redirecting his aura again as he moved in to punch her. Nemmi tackled the nearest scorpion while she dodged Virgil's fist, summoning Arri to wrench his wrist behind his back and hold him.

Gnats _and_ flies suddenly flew into her face to blind her again. Beyond the intense buzz in her ears, she heard the wingbeats of something far larger. She felt Virgil trudge away, trying to drag her along with him. Let go? If she let go, Virgil would counterattack as she redirected her aura over herself. If she didn't, the wasps would be able to strike her. Nemmi could kill approaching scorpions or wasps, but not both before one of them reached her. Cornered. In the span of a second, he cornered her, turned her momentary victory hollow.

She needed to reassess the situation without being in the heat of the moment. She needed to be away from distracting anger and panic to follow his chaotic stream of diversions, endless feints, and thought-out plans. She also needed to stop relying on only what she could see. She had learned her lesson.

With a mouthful of bugs, she drew in a breath. "Nemmi, swap with Arri," she ordered as Arri began dragging Virgil towards her. Lan swatted at the bugs to clear her vision just long enough to see Nemmi's talons hook around Virgil's upper arm. Arri's jaw snapped open, dropping his arm, feet digging craters into the ground as it ran towards her instead of dissipating. A path was sliced through the swarm, nearest wasps falling to the ground. Just as Arri rejoined her, aura gathered at her foot to allow her to safely slam it into a scorpion to send parts flying a few meters away.

Virgil broke free of Nemmi's hold as she turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?" Virgil shouted as she took off in an all-out sprint into the surrounding trees.

"Nemmi," she said as soon as he caught up with her, landed on her shoulder for orders now that they were retreating instead of fighting. "Find water." He screeched reluctantly before he jumped back into the air. Once he settled on a direction, she followed, watching him between gaps in overhanging branches.

She may have left the swarm behind, but she could still hear insects buzzing by her ears as they tried to fly alongside her. No longer just gnats or flies, but mosquitoes, bees, beetles, anything nearby decided to investigate. Virgil, if Nemmi spotted him nearby he would warn her, so she must have left him at a reasonable distance. She was fairly confident that she could outrun him in the woods… even if she struggled to fight him directly.

But that's why she retreated. The bugs still trying to cling to her despite the distance, an idea struck her. Though a bit difficult to manage between dodging tree roots and other forest floor obstacles, she used Gyo to finally look over her body. The sheen of dark blue clinging to her, otherwise hidden by In… It clicked. Pheromones. His aura mimicked pheromones. Most were undetectable by humans, while many insects relied on them for communication. Theoretically, changing his aura could signal the insects, seemingly control a large group at once. Not a manipulator but a transmuter. His proficiency in conjuration and enhancement techniques made more sense now.

Amazing how well her brain could function when not addled with adrenaline. She was really starting to reconsider her choice of addiction. Maybe letting herself get so wound up was the opposite of what she needed to do to have fun- win- while fighting.

Now, how to deal with the aura stuck to her… The distance didn't seem to weaken it. Some sort of restriction must be in place to strengthen what would otherwise be an emission technique. If it didn't wear off with distance, she hoped time would be the deciding factor. Or simply some water.

Slick mud under her feet, she drew in a breath- disgusted as she swallowed more bugs than she wanted to think about. She threw herself into the river Nemmi found. The white-water current swept her downriver and below the surface immediately. Before becoming a Hunter, she might have been more concerned about it. After Morel's nightmarish training? She liked to think of herself as an expert reluctant swimmer.

Downstream a while later, she pulled herself ashore, shedding the outermost layer of her outfit. She tore off her tangled, water logged wig as well. Both were tossed back into the water to disappear. Nemmi landed on her shoulder a minute into her brisk walk, breeze now freezing cold.

"I'm fine." Another look with Gyo, and she sighed. So much for water solving this issue. "More or less depending on what this exactly does and if it eventually dissipates." More bugs were gathering around her already, Nemmi snapping them out of the air, crushing them in his beak. "Keep an eye out for him," she said as she pulled her phone out, thankful for the zippered pockets on her pants. She shook the water droplets off before seeing if she had enough signal to find a map and figure out where she ended up. No such luck. "Look for civilization while you're up there," she added. Nemmi bobbed his head, flapping his wings to dutifully take off again.

She swatted away a few bugs as she walked. Without a doubt, she'd be facing Virgil again. A strategy would be nice. With the basics of his ability figured out, she had more of a chance. It was just a matter of avoiding distractions while thinking ahead- which was easier in theory than practice, considering how it was a drastic change in pace for her. She also didn't know how that Hunter had died; she hadn't seen any scorpions or wasps at the time. Even if Virgil wanted to take her alive, if it came down to his or her life, he would probably choose his.

Still, if the Fan Shi were all like this, fighting them wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She might be able to handle this on her own… if they came after her one at a time, gave her a few chances to come up strategies to defeat them, and kept the 'we want to take you alive' stipulation.

Yeah… No. She was screwed if she couldn't shake them off her trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chase begins! The Fan Shi have appeared, and they are determined to catch Lanfen. I hope you enjoy as the past starts to unravel, as well as the Nen abilities and personalities of the Fan Shi. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading and the kudos!


	20. Motive: Entanglement

_November 4th_

Knuckle stepped into the room, ready to take on the sanctuary's financials, instead did a double-take before he went on the defensive. Hazel eyes regarded him rather lazily, the woman continuing to play with her seafoam green hair. While she didn't move away from the counter she leaned against, her aura shifted.

"So, you're…" She sighed heavily, pulling out her phone. "Knuckle Bine, that's what it was," she said to herself.

"And you're Sybil Delphi," Knuckle commented, name said like an accusation, voice loud to cover up his surprise. Not every day an infamous Blacklist Hunter showed up at an animal sanctuary. Especially Sybil Delphi, as she exclusively pursued rogue Nen-users and the Phantom Troupe. She also regularly worked with less-than-reputable groups, cleaned up 'messes' through 'accidents.' Leveling skyscrapers and burning buildings weren't accidents. He had met her when Morel had been an examiner last year. Didn't like her then, didn't like her now. She shouldn't be allowed to call herself a Hunter no matter who she brought down.

"We've met?" She shrugged after staring at him another moment. "Look, I really don't want to be here, so let's make this quick and easy." Sybil straightened her back, placing a hand on her hip. The aura clouding around her churned. "Do you know where Lanfen is? Happen to have her number? I need to get into contact with her."

Knuckle's eyes narrowed, brows pushed together into a tighter scowl than usual. Lanfen might be a fellow misfit, a bit of a violent one at times, but he doubted Sybil Delphi had any valid reason to be hunting her down. This certainly wasn't a friendly visit with her aura hanging over the room like a tropical storm.

"I would answer before I get bored. You wouldn't want this sanctuary to, like, become a crater in the ground, right?" The blatant threat made his aura flare. No way would he let this woman destroy the place, hurt the animals. "My mood's not the best," she said warningly, rolling her eyes when his stance changed.

Knuckle charged forward, aura in his fist, Hakoware at the ready. He had one shot to catch her off guard. Once the interest started piling on, she'd be forced to come after him to repay it. He would fight like hell in the meantime to keep the place safe. And, with her backed into a corner, he had a chance. His fist struck her arm as she blocked a hit to the cheek. Good enough! APR would take effect and-

A fist dug into his stomach, spit flying from his mouth as he launched through the door, rolling a few times across the ground before catching himself. She leaned against the doorframe, looking less than impressed. She repaid the aura, dispersing Hakoware before it even had a chance to strike the first interest charge. He wiped spit from the corner of his mouth, standing back up, determined to try again since she didn't seem to notice his ability.

"I'm serious, kid." At her side, her Nen gathered, threatening to take form. Conjurer? He steeled himself for whatever took shape. "Attack me again, and I promise to kill every animal here, then you." The bloodlust and power radiating out of her, he began calculating how long it would take for her to go bust with Hakoware. It wasn't looking good; she could do a lot of damage in that time. If he wasn't here alone, had someone to work with, the odds would be better, but the animals… "So, let's start with a simple question even an idiot like you can understand. Where is Lanfen?"

"What make's you think I'd tell you?" Even if he did know, he wouldn't sell Lanfen out to this… this disgraceful excuse for a Hunter!

"So, you don't know or won't say. Whatever." She shrugged as she stepped outside, dark green aura trailing after her, the cloud growing in size and deepening in color. "I'm sure you have her number at least. Why don't you give her a call for me? Or will I have to do it myself?" With a snap of her fingers, it happened. The eerie storm of aura gained physical form, the creature towering over her, overhang of the building ripped apart with deafening snaps. Wrapped in heavy robes, a white mask-like face, clawed hands on white-plated arms, sail-like fins protruding near its shoulders, it resembled an unnervingly human-like sea monster. Glassy eyes silently stared him down.

"Remember, I don't want to be here," Sybil reminded as she raised a hand to her chin, standing in the shadow of her abomination. "You have, hmm, let's say two minutes to decide." The creature's eyes lit up with a timer immediately following her words, the _tick tick_ of time passing filling tense air. "Otherwise, I will remove this place from existence."

Knuckle might have tried going after her again, but one fact kept him rooted in place. She wouldn't go bust no matter if he wailed on her, gave all of his aura to her, in the next two minutes. The thing in front of him took maybe a twentieth of her available Nen. In that time, she could decimate the sanctuary.

The thing announcing every passing second annoyed him to hell and back. He needed to get a fuck ton stronger with people like her existing, bringing misery to others. He'd go do some serious training again as soon as this was over.

With his options weighed, he slowly reached into his pocket for his phone. She smiled pleasantly at him, the timer still counting down. He dialed before holding it to his ear, hoping notoriously silent-happy Lanfen answered quickly for once.

She didn't.

"Pick up your damn phone!" he shouted at the speaker, the timer about ten seconds from going off.

Sybil heaved a sigh before snapping her fingers again, the gargantuan creature letting out an ear-splitting wail as it faded away. She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot on the ground with increasing agitation.

And _finally_ she answered. "Knuckle, I'm a bit-"

"There's a woman here threatening to kill everything if I don't tell her where you are," he said overtop her and the odd hum accompanying her in the background. "Sybil Delphi, a Blacklist Hunter." He could at least share what he knew.

"I- I'm- I didn't," she stammered in the tiniest whisper, barely audible over the background noise. "I'll get her to leave, just… No one's gotten hurt yet, right?" Fumbling over words like this, equal parts angered and nervous, Knuckle had never heard her speak this way. "I really didn't mean to… To get you and the animals involved in this. I should have guessed this would happen."

"What's going on?" he asked, momentarily torn out of the hostage situation by her one-eighty in personality. It'd been almost a week since he last heard from her. What the hell happened in that time? Frazzled Lanfen, he had no idea how to react.

"I…" She hesitated another moment, probably biting her lip. "Just look up Paijin. Give the phone to Sybil." And, like that, the fury returned to her voice to brush over whatever secrets her last name held. The lack of surprise at being pursued by a Blacklist Hunter… Her personal problems were a bit more intense than he thought they'd be. At least now he might be more help.

"I'll put it on speaker." That way, unless the woman demanded it, she wouldn't have Lanfen's number. He hoped Lanfen would see that he was just stalling to make another plan. That half-summon used up some of her Nen; Hakoware might have a chance if he played this right.

After a click of a button, Sybil opening her mouth, Knuckle beginning to think over the situation again, Lanfen interrupted, systematically tearing apart his idea to stall in one run-on sentence said with an edge. "I'm in Rowells, Virgil's been chasing me for the last week, so leave them out this, get the fuck out of the sanctuary, and come get me."

Then she hung up. Knuckle stared at his phone, dumbstruck. He'd never heard her cuss. He quickly pushed his surprise aside to go back on the defensive, his latest plan in the toilet.

Sybil's expression went blank. The next second, malice and bloodlust turned to pure irritation. She began stalking away, muttering to herself like he no longer existed, "I came here for nothing. Bastard has been chasing her for a week. A week! I swear, I'll wring his skinny little neck for wasting my time." Without another word to him, she wandered away like she hadn't been ready to commit a massacre.

The day bizarrely went back to business as usual. Except now he was on his phone looking up 'Paijin' in hopes he could use the information to help Lanfen out of whatever mess she found herself in. Next, he would be calling Morel and Shoot because no way he was letting her deal with that nutcase alone.

* * *

"Damn it," Lan whispered, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She peeked out around the corner, Virgil not lurking there. Yet. Nemmi continued to circle overhead to give her warning when bug-bastard made his daily appearance.

She had narrowed in on how his tracking ability worked. It lasted about eight hours. He had to land a blow to attach it, leading to two to three scuffles a day over the last week. At least five wasps heralded his reappearance. The things must have an insane range they could detect pheromones over, too, considering how they kept finding her. (Damn wasps. No matter what she tried to search, she never found out what they were, what they did. The Hunter database probably had information… Too bad she didn't have access to it because of one irritating bandit leader.) Still debatable if Virgil's ability also provided him with her general location, or if he just managed to predict her movements this accurately.

In any case, his aura was like a damn strobe light she couldn't shatter. Eight hours proved enough time for him to catch up with her no matter what she did. She'd tried taking public transportation. Too bad the cloud of fucking flies, gnats, whatever happened to by flying around, clung to her presence like bees to a flower. (Bees _were_ a major issue since so many people were allergic or scared; try bringing a swarm onto a bus and see how well it goes over.) Airships were out considering that in the time it took to get a ticket, board, all that nonsense, a swarm of insects would find her. Even the weather was against her, a ton of flights delayed by an onslaught of storms to the south and east. She also didn't want a fight to break out on an airship; she already knew how fun it was when they crashed. She'd stolen a few cars, but now she was getting a rap sheet with law enforcement. She didn't need a bunch of inane officers slowing her down with car chases and blockades. (Again, her license would be nice right about now. She could have at least rented a car without having another form of ID on her.) Didn't help that that asshole Virgil called in tips to send the police after her whenever he got the chance. If all of _that_ wasn't enough, he also hired mafia thugs to target her. That caused further distraction and delay as she tried to flee. Bug-bastard knew how to work a corrupt system to gather intel; the Fan Shi had to have reformed some mafia connections, because he wasn't a Hunter using the site. (It really annoyed her that the few Hunters after him barely distracted him; then again, if the police didn't force her to ditch vehicles, his thugs did by littering them with bullet holes and by shooting out the tires. Virgil could still travel mostly unbothered.)

And now, now she had a second Fan Shi after her! Presumably, Sybil would join him in the next day or so. Why he didn't inform his allies that he had found her aggravated her to no end. Pride. He explicitly _told_ her it was entirely out pride when she asked two days ago, suspicious that he hadn't been joined after a week of chasing her- she had been hoping to keep it that way, too, since dealing with him alone was exhausting. He said he wanted to make up for almost killing her back at the compound. Idiot.

But she… She didn't expect them to go after the sanctuary, after her friends. She should have. Tangling the animals and Knuckle in this mess… She felt guilty. They were innocent. Knuckle had _still_ been trying to help her, too. Shouting out her location might have damned herself, but he didn't need to be a part of this, get killed for her sake. Knuckle, Morel and Shoot as well, they were too… good to be dealing with this. They were actual Hunters that cared deeply for their cause. The person they knew her as was at best a watered-down version of herself, a mask worn to hide her actual nature, because they wouldn't like her. _Shouldn't_ like her. They were good people, and she wasn't. She was self-aware enough to know that. And she just told Knuckle to look up Paijin... The weight behind it, the things the Paijin had done at its height, it wasn't pretty. It was outright damning. Even if they miraculously still wanted to help her, they shouldn't risk injury over the half-lie that was their relationship with her.

At the same time, without help, she wouldn't last much longer. If she didn't catch a break, even Virgil would prove too much for her. Exhaustion was starting to set in after a week spent in a loop of running and fighting. She slept maybe an hour at a time before being forced to keep moving. Physically drained, emotionally on edge, this chase, it was worse than the Hunter Exam. It was nearly as bad as swimming lessons…

She only had one person that she felt -sort of- willing to ask. Mostly on the basis that his strength would put him at less risk, that fighting strong opponents would be fun for him while incidentally helping her. He… He did promise no one else got to kill her, after all. So, even if she was trying to distance herself after what happened, contacting him, seeking his help, would be for the best, right?

"Damn it," she repeated, pulling her phone back out.

* * *

He absently flipped the Hunter License around in his fingers while waiting for someone known to be notoriously late.

Lanfen's license had been useful over the last two months. Using it, having ready access to a decent sum of money, and utilizing his own sources, Chrollo had found rumors of a Nen exorcist in a game called Greed Island. A few weeks ago, he had stolen a copy from a collector after infiltrating his household by posing as a newly hired bodyguard. A bit ridiculous, certainly time-consuming, but ultimately necessary without Nen. Although he was more than capable of getting by without Nen, he found it rather inconvenient. Especially now, as he couldn't enter the game himself.

So, here he sat, tucked away in the corner of a library, awaiting his contracted player to make his grand appearance.

Hisoka might not be his first pick in assistants right now, things considered, yet he would work well enough. Chrollo couldn't contact the Spiders with the curse, admittedly leaving him few other options. Hisoka was already familiar with the Troupe as well.

Chrollo knew they would be searching for an exorcist on his behalf. Pakunoda… Paku would have told them what happened, even with the severe price. She… she did what she thought was best for the Spider despite her actions insulting the founding principles. The others had allowed her to save him, too, yet… She paid with her life for her slight betrayal in breaking the tenets of the Spider, but also proven her loyalty in the end, and he felt… _something_. He didn't want to consider what. Not in depth. Not now.

He remembered that Feitan had been curious about Greed Island before the auction began; in the very least, Phinks would have accompanied him into the game. If they happened to find the exorcist first, then a go-between would be required to arrange a meeting. Hisoka could manage that as well.

He also wanted Hisoka out of his way for a while, and what better way to do that than send him somewhere remote, perhaps even inaccessible to the outside world?

His expression shifted ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. He knew how he felt about this. Infiltrating the Phantom Troupe, pretending to be a Spider for years, threatening to bring about its destruction through betrayal, assisting the Kurta boy, all for the sole purpose of fighting him… Hisoka had tried to take everything from him. So, in turn, Chrollo would repay the favor. He would make Hisoka regret crossing the Spider.

Chrollo's eyes drifted back to the license briefly. Another moment passed before he pocketed his bait.

Hisoka arrived with his usual theatrics twenty minutes late, a grin cutting across his face as he sauntered over, loud colors out of place in the quiet, drab space. He pulled a chair out to sit across from Chrollo, resting an elbow on the table, his chin on his hand, to lean into Chrollo's personal space enough to border on uncomfortable. An obvious powerplay, one Hisoka often used, Chrollo ignored it, greeting him pleasantly, if a bit succinctly.

"You have an interesting proposition for me?" Hisoka asked a second later, more interested in speaking than sitting in an underlyingly tense silence. His easy acceptance of meeting with him to discuss this had betrayed his curiosity. Making an appearance, he all but agreed already. "Something to fix you? I have no use for broken toys, after all."

"A Nen exorcist, one capable of lifting the curse, is rumored to be in a game made for Nen-users." He motioned to the game console pushed off to the side on the table. "I'm sure my Spiders have already begun their search as well."

"Hmm?" Hisoka looked over the white box, plucking the memory card off it to examine it closer. From that information alone, he pieced together Chrollo's request in full. He may act the part of fool, but he was regrettably intelligent. Gold eyes eventually landed on him again, narrowing as his smile widened. The pin-pricks over Chrollo's skin, bloodlust felt… different without his Nen to act as a barrier. (Yet another person he wasn't particularly pleased with after Yorknew. If he were being honest, having his Nen sealed by that _child_ was humiliating. The fact the Kurta killed two of his own, Chrollo would also rather avoid that subject.) He already anticipated the next words from Hisoka's curled lips. "In return, I want my match. Just you and I alone, no interference from the Spiders, no postponing the date again. A fight to the death is _all_ I want from you now."

In the brief second of standoffish silence before Chrollo accepted the terms of this deal, something interrupted. Hisoka's phone vibrated in his pocket, the noise apparent in the quiet. It kept vibrating another few seconds, Hisoka trying his best to ignore it considering he was trying to arrange a fight years in the making.

"It must be urgent," Chrollo commented, more or less urging him to answer it.

Hisoka appeared amused while retrieving his phone, needlessly glancing at the number on screen. After betraying the Troupe, Hisoka likely had few allies that were inclined to call him. He leaned back in his chair as he dismissively answered, "I'm busy, fledgling." He hung up immediately. The tone he had taken had moved away from abysmally cheerful, even if said with a smile; in fact, it sounded mocking. Like he was repeating her words back to her. Trouble in paradise, perhaps?

"Lan, I take it."

"No worries, dearest Chrollo. She isn't my priority. Not while my darling _Danchou_ is in need of help."

Despite the mocking endearments, the taunt in his voice as he said his title, Chrollo couldn't be more pleased with the response.

With the flick of Hisoka's fingers, the memory card disappeared. He glanced at the console, card now in place as though by magic, in truth by Nen, before Hisoka sweetly asked, "Anything else?"

* * *

"Virgil found her a week ago," was the only greeting Sybil offered when Joan answered. She sounded as enthused as ever. Aka not one fucking bit. Livid at having her apparently precious time wasted, probably. Seriously, he didn't understand how Paperclips kept her in line. Maybe because she was banging her sister, but still. Sybil was the definition of a crazy Meteor City bitch. "I hope you didn't know that, Joan," she added, voice strained to keep her only ounce of chill.

He wished he could say that he already knew Stink-bug had found Lanfen, but he didn't. Damn idiot, if he didn't take matters into his own hands like this, they might already have Lanfen tied up, shipped home, and the item secured. Instead, Virgil decided to play a game of tag, which he clearly couldn't win if he'd been at it a week.

Just… Shit. Why did they have to make things so difficult all the time? He wondered if Paperclips already got the update from crazy here. "You tell Minji about this yet?"

" _No_ ," she stressed, eyebrow probably twitching. "I was told to report to you, so I'm reporting to you."

He couldn't pick a lie out of her denial, but he'd bet his new Yorknew penthouse that she did. Paperclips was hiding stuff. Had been since the night of the fucking massacre. Slit throat freshly stitched together, blood down her clothes, she had looked like a nightmare as she ordered them to retreat before they joined Fanghe on the Zoldyck's completed hitlist. Never got the whole story out of her. She was the last one with Fanghe; she should have been there protecting her, slit throat or not. Then the Heaven's Arena incident occurred. No way Paperclips would miss the fact Lanfen had been there, that Adalei had sensed a spat between her and an opponent. She was up to something. Joan could feel it in his damn bones.

"Can I join him?" Sybil snapped on the other end of the line, her limited patience burned through.

These Meteor City brats were on his nerves again. He was the oldest, the first to be picked for the Fan Shi, so, damn it, he was in charge! He should get some goddamn respect. He kept them functioning, got them hooked up with the mafia again- although the fucking Phantom Troupe almost ruined that in September, leaving crime capital Yorknew in utter disarray. Fanghe also always told them the chain of command went her, himself, and then Minji. Not a fucking free-for-all where you act on your own all the damn time.

"Yeah, go catch up with Stink-bug," he answered so she couldn't assault his ear again. She heaved a sigh, mumbling something far from a compliment, before hanging up.

Just… shit. They were a hot mess. How the hell were they supposed to avenge Fanghe if they couldn't even catch a kid- well, Lanfen wasn't really a kid anymore, but still- without stumbling over each other?

* * *

Lan stared at her phone blankly, between anger and… No, actually, she was mostly just angry. Perhaps somewhat astounded that Hisoka seemed genuinely annoyed with her ignoring him, but, again, mostly angry. She understood he could be demanding, so turning him down would irritate him, but to actually show it? She didn't know what to make of that. Not that she regretted her decision; she very much needed to reevaluate their relationship after what happened in Yorknew. Contacting him had been for survival, not pleasure, in this case. She could justify it.

He certainly chose a terrible time to copy her childishness, though.

She swatted away a fly buzzing around her face, sending the thing smashing into the ground. The humming in her ears didn't disappear. A pulse of En and screaming up the street signaled her ten-minute break had ended. Another two hours… If she could just avoid him, then she'd be free of his tracking. She could slip away, or sneak up on him to finish him- because she wanted to crush that bug-bastard for this irritating chase, for almost killing her in the past, for giving her a fear of suffocating, for simply being a part of the Fan Shi, for a list of other, more petty, reasons.

But, then again, the other Fan Shi would be joining him now. Like hell she forgot Sybil. To think that one of them had been an examiner, that they had spoken while standing so close to each other. The only reason she probably hadn't recognized her then- and she couldn't believe she was about to admit to being even remotely grateful for this- was the swelling bruise Hisoka had left on her cheek. Sybil's last name also dug out an ancient memory of a mythology book, of the front page with a handwritten 'happy birthday, Jingyi' signed 'from the Delphi twins.' She had a chance at defeating Virgil, but Sybil was another matter. If she remembered correctly, Hisoka had been interested in fighting the woman then and there; that alone left plenty of reasons to be concerned.

Fleeing would be her best option, yet she would still need help. This wouldn't end if she managed to hide. The time between discovery and pursuit after the arena had been a fluke of some sort after all.

In the final moments before wasps zipped around the corner to greet her, her finger hovered above the spiderweb. Following a moment of hesitation, she thought _nope!_ She wasn't quite desperate enough to hand herself over to the devil. Yet.

Another impatient flash of En told her to start sprinting in the opposite direction of wingbeats.


	21. Coincidence and Design: Predator and Prey

_November 7th_

Nemmi frantically used En in a second burst. The bug-bastard had been a block behind her, chasing after her _again,_ this time through the streets of Devana. If the crowd of people taking part in this forsaken festival didn't already make it difficult enough to keep track of Virgil…

"Shit," she hissed under her breath as Nemmi landed on her shoulder to confirm her fears. He let out a panicked shriek for emphasis on how fucked they probably were. Virgil had vanished, from sight and En. Damn bastard! He still had four hours before his ability wore off; Scent Trail, he called it, because the chatty guy answered just about anything _as long as it was frivolous_.

His talk of this being his last chance before Sybil arrived, it hadn't been a lie. The unseasonably inclement weather cleared enough for the witch to join the locust in plaguing her unfortunate existence.

Did she dare pour more Nen into Nemmi to increase his search range? Virgil would sense it with how close he managed to sneak up to her. (Bastard had waited until she was in a sea of people, his wasp brigade not out to incense the crowd, his Nen not flared in warning. He got close, a fucking hat, scarf, and oversized coat disguising him enough that Nemmi didn't immediately notice him while not using En- which would have given Virgil her general location _because_ of this aura sensing nonsense in the Fan Shi.)

"Just keep an eye out for him," she settled on, stepping around a group of idiots standing in the middle of the damned street. Nemmi chirped reluctantly before taking off again.

Lan kept running, or trying to despite the crowd, no other plan than get away and hide until his ability expired. Her legs already felt heavy, her eyelids protesting staying open. She didn't remember the last time she had slept more than two hours.

Aura crawled up her spine like a trail of biting ants. En. Close by. _Really_ close by. Nemmi sent out his aura, finding nothing. No Virgil, so where did-

Her foot caught the edge of an uneven manhole cover. Before she face-planted on asphalt, she stuck her arms out, using momentum to flip back upright a short distance away. Metal struck the back of her skull, her vision swimming with added confusion. The manhole cover danced at her feet, spinning before it could fall flat with a clatter.

The second her sleep-deadened reaction time figured out that she needed to turn around, block another hit despite the world spinning around her, she heard _them_. Virgil hoisted himself out of the sewer as stingers sank into her skin. Arri sliced them apart the moment following, but she had a dozen stings to the legs and back already. Nemmi slammed into Virgil, knocking him back into the sewer he'd crawled out of.

Lan ran the opposite direction since she didn't immediately collapse in a paralyzed pile. A second wave of hell-spawned wasps chased after her. Nemmi cut down as many as he could in a final ditch effort to keep her from capture.

In just a few minutes, her muscles progressively felt tighter and tighter, choking her hopes as surely as a smoke-filled room. Soon, she would be immobilized entirely.

If she could somehow manage to get away and avoid him, she could at least hide. She could see if the venom wore off without medical intervention, call in reinforcements in the meantime. Because she was ready to call Morel and Knuckle back now- the number of missed calls from those two, they even had Shoot trying now. She needed help, and, you know what, if they were willing to risk their lives for her after reading about the Paijin, after getting a hint of what she was involved in outside of hunting, it was their own fault. She couldn't save them from stupidity. Although, that was a lie she kept repeating to herself to convince herself to _not_ call Hisoka again to plead with him. He hadn't even bothered answering the last two calls… Even responding to texts was too much of a bother for him.

Hell, she'd even hand herself over to Chrollo if it kept her from Virgil.

But this was probably it.

Virgil would catch her and bring her to the Fan Shi. The years of avoidance, of fleeing from even the idea of the Fan Shi, of training to get stronger, and a few bugs sealed her fate. They wouldn't let her live after getting the item. Her father said they would skin her alive, slit her throat open in remembrance of Fanghe, slowly break and tear her apart piece by piece, because she was Paijin. Once Father- _the Fan Shi_ had the item, she'd be useless. And useless things, useless things were cast aside. That's what he told her again and again as a threat, as a promise. Her value hinged on the item. The moment it was found, she… she wouldn't matter. She'd be… be just another pest to kill.

She whipped around a corner, promptly colliding with some other unfortunate soul's chest. Before she fell down on top of them, had to pick her stiff body off the ground to waste even more precious time, she grabbed their shirt to steady them both. A half-step back, her fingers still tightly clutching black fabric, she glanced up, meeting strikingly, unsettlingly familiar grey eyes.

Her brain ceased functioning.

The man looked like an angel right now. A slightly surprised angel dressed entirely in black, but still, he offered her salvation. The universe had certainly provided her a beautiful birthday present to make up for all her bad luck.

So momentarily and oddly excited to crash into Chrollo Lucilfer of all people, she stared at him dumbly with her hands balled into his shirt, coherent thoughts non-existent. He regarded her without comment, the tiny surprise in his expression fading quickly. At the sound of screams down the street, with the hum of giant wasps fast approaching, he caught onto the situation despite her dumbstruck silence. By the time he physically threatened to pry her hands from his shirt, she released her vice-grip, ready to step aside and let him take care of her problems like the gentleman he pretended to be.

Instead, he grabbed her wrist to make it very clear she needed to _follow_ him. As soon as she had the sense to follow him like a proper adult and not an aimless child, he dropped her arm, leading her through a series of alleys and streets, looking for something.

Unfortunately for him, she eventually remembered how to talk. "Why are we running away?" Obviously, he should just kill Virgil and return to keeping her _his_ hostage to use against the Fan Shi. He had promised! "Look, I'll cooperate now, so just…" _Take care of my issues. Please?_ Her face scrunched a bit now that she realized his appearance did put her right back in the position she was in in Yorknew. But, nope, she'd take him over Virgil toting her back to the Fan Shi.

"I can't use Nen."

And, with that brick to the face, her expression went from hopeful to offended. "Wha… What do you _mean_ you can't use Nen!?" she almost hissed, her voice rising to a squeak instead. How was he supposed to save her if he couldn't use Nen? No wonder Hisoka decided not to fight him!

"It's a curse." The vague, short response should have shown her that he either didn't want to talk about it, or that now wasn't exactly the right time for a pleasant conversation on how he managed to get a curse laid on him- because his word choice didn't quite seem like a joke. Too bad she couldn't let it go so easily after he crushed her latest plan in one deadpan sentence. (Damn he could act, saying it so matter-of-factly. He had to be angry about it. She would be positively livid if someone sealed her Nen. Hell, she was currently upset on his behalf.)

"And the Spiders? Are they nearby?" Surely, even Chrollo wouldn't travel alone while without Nen. An enemy of some sort had to brea- She refused to start talking like Hisoka, even mentally! But, seriously, who managed to put a curse on him? Oh, she had some select words for them right now… She took back any gratefulness she aimed at the universe too, since his appearance ended up being a cruel, if bizarre, prank.

His lack of response was telling. Maybe. He may just want her to shut up and focus on running as they passed through another crowded street. Shouts followed in their wake as the wasps kept on their trail. Finally, the next alley let out onto a side street not in use for this absurd festival.

Chrollo suddenly stopped next to a car. "Cut the glass and unlock the doors," he ordered, glancing over his shoulder to watch for wasps. She hesitated a moment _because it had been an order_. He had a plan at least, unlike her.

With narrowed eyes, she called Arri over a single finger to obediently slice a hole through the window without flaring her aura for Virgil's convenience. The chunk fell onto the passenger seat without shattering into a thousand pieces. Broken glass would, admittedly, make for an unconformable ride. For her, considering the moment she had the doors unlocked, he slipped by her and into the driver's seat. She tossed the disc of glass aside before crawling into the seat next to him, watching him curiously as he fiddled with a bundle of wires he'd pulled out from somewhere. Her eyes probably sparkled when she realized he was hotwiring the car. The second the engine started, she _knew_ she had a stupid look of wonder on her face.

A few moments later, with the reduced chaos of driving far faster than wasps could fly, she began noticing the flies that had followed her into the vehicle. "I should mention he's tracking me," she mumbled, not exactly proud to admit it while flies buzzed around her like day-old roadkill. "Will be for the next four hours. His ability also happens to attract bugs," she tacked on, hoping that she just hadn't become so gross that bugs naturally clung to her. "He's part of the Fan Shi, so… Have a plan?" She glanced back to him hopefully.

"You need to shower," he said simply, letting her figure out the other details for herself.

Instead, she got distracted by the implication of his words. She… She couldn't smell that bad, right? She didn't exactly have time to properly bathe with Virgil chasing after her, so she knew she looked like a disaster, but hearing the leader of the Phantom Troupe point that out sort of… embarrassed her? She not so subtly looked out the window when his eyes met hers, the lack of questions perhaps tipping him off that her thoughts went astray.

"The wasp that stung you, it's venom breaks down with heat." Her attention shot back to him. Her ratty clothes camouflaged the fresh wounds, for the most part, so how'd he know? More importantly, he knew what the wasps were. "If left for much longer, you will be fully paralyzed for a few hours," he added, and she eventually realized he probably noticed while they were running. She wasn't quite limping yet, but, with her muscles tightening, her movements were more sluggish than usual. Another ten minutes and her legs would feel like lead weights... Probably a good thing he decided to drive.

"You know what they are?" she asked after a short pause, deciding the silence felt awkward. To her. Because flies kept drunkenly buzzing around her like she was a trashbin.

Chrollo didn't seem the least bit bothered, content with the silence, paying more attention to driving as fast as possible around traffic. While he occasionally and very illegally passed other vehicles, he avoided drawing too much attention otherwise. Unlike her, he figured playing nice with the police would allow them to put more distance between them and Virgil. Even if they were in a stolen vehicle, many witnesses around to report the crime, vaguely obeying traffic laws helped buy time.

"Flesh wasps. They're native to Meteor City."

That would explain why she had never seen them before, as well as why the net lacked much in the way of results. Not a lot of nature surveys going on in Meteor City. "Tell me more?" Curiosity slipped into her tone despite her trying to act nonchalant by glancing back out the window. For something so presently irritating, the wasps were something new and dangerous. She'd love to know more.

Without his Nen, Chrollo was also far less intimidating. She felt more comfortable pestering him with random questions since there wasn't much he could do other than ignore her. And, well, he had a nice voice delirious Lan rather enjoyed listening to. Her brows pushed together with that disturbing thought. She _really_ must need some sleep if her mind could wander so severely off topic so quickly. And, at this point, sitting in a car, leader of the Phantom Troupe acting as her chauffeur, it felt surreal enough to be pure fantasy. Maybe the wasps actually caused hallucinations, and this was the equivalent of a fever dream…

"The venom also causes crippling pain," he said, deciding to humor her curiosity after a sideways glance at her. "You're fortunate in that regard." Lan couldn't decide if the remark was a joke or an observation. He must have some warped sense of humor considering the way he entered his number in her phone, but she couldn't readily recognize it. "Multiple stings cause the surrounding muscles to contract and freeze. The wasps then feed on the flesh before laying eggs in the remains. Watching the young burst from festering corpses is always quite a sight."

She nodded while filing the information away. If she happened to survive the Fan Shi, she might consider conducting her own biological survey on Meteor City fauna. If someone told her where it was, exactly.

Most of the Troupe came from Meteor City, right? She guessed Chrollo did too. The reason the mafia rolled over after the Troupe's auction massacre had been based on that fact. Auntie had ranted about that as soon as Lan didn't look dead. She… She should probably call her back, ruin her day by telling her about the Fan Shi. She figured they were just after her, no reason to pry further when they had her in their sights. Giving Auntie another premature scare with a 'hey, I might be dead if you don't hear from me' might give her a heart attack.

"Ever get stung yourself?" she asked, the conversation a welcome distraction from scrambling thoughts.

"You ask a lot of frivolous questions for someone on the verge of paralysis."

"Then, what's the plan?"

"You can't figure it out for yourself?"

Lan aimed a glare at him only to see a slight upturn in his lips. It sounded like a challenge more than an insult- which still, somehow, felt insulting. Testing her intelligence like this was a game… She looked out the window, determined to show him she wasn't an idiot. Even if she probably seemed like one. And she must, considering their encounters included her unknowingly waltzing into their base, him stealing her wallet with the simplest form of misdirection, and her getting bested by a few bugs.

The fact they'd left the congested downtown area for a residential area made it click. "We're breaking into a house. Probably going to ditch the car a few blocks away too." The thought of walking made her sigh, but it would be necessary. Again, driving stolen cars was far more inconvenient than she had previously considered. All it took was one stubborn person -or Virgil- to whip the police force into a frenzy. A worse thought crossed her mind: Chrollo might have to drag her into a shower if they didn't stop somewhere soon. Dreadful thought. Very dreadful thought. "You couldn't just tell me," she added under her breath, now feeling a bit impatient.

"I shouldn't have to explain things that you're more than capable of figuring out for yourself."

"Whatever," she mumbled, unsure how else to respond. How matter-of-fact he sounded, it had almost seemed like a compliment. A bit of a backhanded compliment, but still. He appeared quite confident she would have known the gist of his scheme immediately after the shower comment if she had been paying attention rather than fretting over her appearance.

She leaned back into the seat, watching him from the corner of her eye. Focused on driving, his expression devoid of anything telling … How he was dressed in such casual clothes, a simple black jacket, shirt, and jeans, cross tattoo covered by a bandana, crow-black hair hanging in front of his eyes again… He looked as unassumingly attractive as ever. Yet, she distinctly felt like he was up to something.

* * *

Chrollo locked the door behind him, even if the sliced-through deadbolt made it a rather hollow action. Lanfen had promised minimal damage when she urged him to leave, that she could break in by herself while he abandoned the stolen vehicle a distance away from the small, single occupant house. Subtlety didn't seem her strong suit, honestly, but she had managed. He could hear the shower running down the hall, Lanfen following his instructions well enough despite not entering it immediately. Her priorities were perhaps a bit skewed considering her charging phone now conspicuously sat on the kitchen table with her other belongings.

He shrugged off the backpack he had the game console stored in, depositing it on the table next to Lanfen's things, before deciding to make himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

Those wasps were particularly troublesome. To a non-Nen-user or someone of generally weaker constitution, the venom would have set in within moments of the sting, the symptoms lasing half a day- he had, in fact, been stung a few times as a child, and he wouldn't recommend it.

The user was also a member of the Fan Shi. One that had been in pursuit of Lanfen for a time now judging her current state. Clothes littered with tears, dark rings under her eyes, and hair in a state of disarray, she appeared frazzled and exhausted, perhaps even desperate. This was the perfect time to run into her. Admittedly unplanned. Mostly. He had stumbled across a serial car thief and vandal's description that matched her well enough he figured it wasn't coincidence. The outbreak of flesh wasps following the trail of her crime spree also hinted that she was having a difficult time. Truthfully, he chose to begin tracking her down.

He had been a touch surprised to have her crash into his chest, though. However, the fortune in September did say he would find allies eastward, and they did happen to be directly east of Yorknew, so perhaps he shouldn't be surprised in the slightest.

The accuracy of that ability remained formidable. If only he could use it…

Her phone's screen lighting up drew his attention from bitter thoughts. The number on screen didn't have a corresponding emoji, yet the persistence hinted they were determined to be heard. He remembered there being a number she regularly corresponded with despite it not being saved in her contacts. The fact it kept ringing almost begged him to sate his mild curiosity.

So, he did.

"Lanfen, I have been calling you all day! And do you know how many of my calls you've missed in the last two weeks?" a woman's voice rattled off in Anchian, tone laced with absolute exasperation, worry breaking through irritation. She almost sounded motherly. Interesting, considering Sybil had been convinced all the Paijin were dead. A more distant relative or adoptive parent? "What in the world are you doing that you can't answer your phone? Did you forget to tell me you were off on one of your research trips again?"

He took the pause after her rhetorical question to answer, "She's been a bit preoccupied."

"Who- Who are you?" Suspicion quickly overtook her shock. "Where is Lanfen?" An urgent accusation, they were close. Lanfen didn't seem to have many personal connections if her phone was any clue. To get close to her, well, knowing more about her relationships wouldn't hurt. It was unlikely she would tell him herself, after all.

"No need to sound so worried," he reassured, tone shifting. He might have taken the act further, let more excitement and cheer infect his voice, yet, he did not quite know Lanfen's taste in company beyond Hisoka. Best to not overact. "She's just taking a shower, and I happened to notice her phone ringing. Is it an emergency? I can get her for you, if you need," he helpfully offered.

The pause hung in the air as the woman considered his response. "No. No, that's fine. Just… who are you, exactly?" More curious than wary this time, he was making quick progress. If only mistrustful Lanfen found him as charming; instead, she seemed to find his politeness outright suspicious. It would take more than a few pleasant words to convince her to his side.

"Ah! Please, forgive my manners. My name is Chrollo. I've been with Lanfen over the last few days, planning a project." He would even be kind enough to provide Lanfen an alibi; the woman, even if she was family, she wasn't aware the Fan Shi were currently in pursuit of Lanfen. "I can certainly give her a message. Of course, if you don't mind me asking, who are you? Lanfen doesn't seem to have your name saved in her phone. She doesn't talk much about her family, either." She hesitated, no quick denial hinting he was on the right track. He didn't give her a chance to think before asking, "Are you her mother, by chance?"

"No," she corrected, clearly taken off guard. "No, I'm her aunt. Just wish her happy birthday for me and tell her to call me back when she has time."

"I will do that. Goodbye."

There was another pause as Lanfen's aunt seemed taken aback by the polite farewell. "Oh, yes, goodbye," she quickly said before the call abruptly ended.

He returned her phone to the charger while absently considering bits of information. It was a start, he supposed. Paku would have known every detail by now, perhaps even without her ability; she had had a way of gaining trust, of coaxing information from nervous individuals. Paku…

He decided to wander about the house, see what he could find, instead of sitting in morose silence once again. A few books would be nice distractions considering he had finished the one already in his bag. Instead of immediately setting out on his search for reading materials, he stopped by the kitchen sink, opening nearby cupboards until he found a glass. Their break would be brief, after all. Though vague in description, Lanfen had mentioned a tracking ability attached to her. Placing more distance between them and her pursuer would be the best course of action. Lanfen also needed to rest if she had any hope of fighting the Fan Shi; his guidance could only help so much with her mental and physical state so degraded.

He had the glass raised to his lips when he heard the front door's lock rattle with a key's use. The owner decided to make an untimely appearance. From the sink, Chrollo picked up the nearest object that could loosely be classified as a weapon. That happened to be a butter knife. Taking a sip of water while twirling the knife into a more comfortable hold, he leaned against the wall next to the door.

A thought occurred to him just then. If he wanted to learn more about Lanfen, he could just go through her phone. He hadn't been particularly interested before, but she seemed quite attached to it. Her messages were a record of her activities, interests, and relationships.

Forcing the knife through the back of the entering man's skull barely registered, the movement nearly reflex at this point. As the body slumped to the floor, Chrollo closed the door, finishing his glass of water while stepping over the fresh corpse.

As he set the glass down on the table, his hand hovering above her phone, he heard something a bit peculiar. The sound of running water grew a fraction louder. The shower still on, the lack of footsteps, the Nen bird had left Lanfen's side. That fractional second, the minuscule amount of killing intent as he dispatched the man, it captured their attention. Lanfen, she was proving an anxious individual.

Although a bit ridiculous, he tried to address the bird undoubtedly spying on him. "No need for-" was as far as he made it before talons hooked into his jacket's sleeve. Before it brushed skin, tore into unprotected flesh, he jerked his arm to the side and stepped back. Anticipating an unseen follow-up, he reached backwards, fingers finding the backpack's strap. Her aura had the consistency of blades reinforced with Nen; striking it with his fist, or even a knife, would be ill-advised in his current state. That left him to blindly swing the game console into the bird to deter it from a sincere attack that damaged more than fabric. It connected, backpack shredding, the unique nature of Greed Island protecting the console- a touch irritating, how a game console currently held more Nen than him. A glancing blow at best, the bird crashed into a chair to splinter wood. Pieces flew to the side as it pulled itself off the ground. Footsteps down the hall seemed to make the bird hesitate.

"Nemmi," Lanfen snapped as she rounded the corner, towel wrapped around her, water still dripping down her to soak the wood floor, "get over here." Scratches appeared on the tabletop before the bird picked up her phone to fly it over to her. The creature perched on her shoulder. Her words softened to an exasperated whisper as she took her phone. "He can't be doing something that…" her words trailed as her eyes found the corpse, "bad." She raised an eyebrow at Chrollo, expression mixed between curiosity, admiration, and delight. Not the typical reaction to a corpse, she had a callous disregard for strangers it seemed. Did she consider him a stranger? "Did you kill that guy with a butter knife?"

"I did," he confirmed, letting a touch of amusement slip by to reward her inquisitiveness. No matter how she tried to hide it, she found him impressive. Over such odd, trifling things, too- he hadn't missed her absolute wonder when he hotwired the car.

"And what's in the bag?" She certainly felt more in control of the situation, unafraid to ask questions, even while dressed in only a towel.

"Would you believe me if I said a game console?"

"Do you expect me to?" His lack of response was met by a blank stare as she tried to gauge if he was serious or not. Eventually, she dismissed her question, turning away to return to the still running shower. "I'll be done in a few minutes to discuss what happens next." After a few steps she paused with an afterthought, glancing over her shoulder at him. "You're… not going to make any comments about this?"

About her half-demand or the towel? He supposed Hisoka would have had an extremely different reaction in this situation. (He wondered, exactly, how close the two were. In his time with the Troupe, Hisoka had never mentioned her before presenting her in Yorknew. How serious were the flirty messages they sent each other? If they were a couple, well, Chrollo found himself a landmine to trigger. Hisoka's possessiveness, he wanted Lanfen for himself. Taking her might be one of the few ways to get his point across.) "Do you want me to make a comment?" Chrollo eventually asked back, seeing that she also found some enjoyment in going back and forth like this.

Lanfen narrowed her eyes, measuredly asking, "And if I did, what would you say?"

This time, behind the suspicion, her tone made it seem like a request. Or a heavy-handed attempt at flirting. Strange, this Lanfen. The moment she felt in control, her filter left her.

"That's an interesting scar on your calf," he settled on instead of saying she was more pleasant to look at now that she had showered off days of grime. There were two rows of deep scars, in truth, but the healed over gouges and punctures on either side were unmistakably left by sharpened teeth and fangs. An animal of considerable size had caused the damage.

She stared at him for another moment before she wordlessly began to wander down the hall, refusing to answer. The edge of a sizable black tattoo peeked out from her towel, running nearly shoulder to shoulder. A crow. She held Nemmi in high regard to wear its image permanently.

"By the way, happy birthday." At his voice, she whipped around, eyes widened to saucers. The uncomfortable pin-prick of her aura hit his skin once she stifled her initial shock. Undoubtedly, several other emotions clouded her bloodlust, but, without Nen, he regrettably missed them. "Your aunt called." She would find out anyway, since the bird hinted that he had been messing with it.

"And what did you say to her?" The heaviness in the air grew, reminding him that bloodlust didn't feel particularly nice without his own aura as a buffer. The accusatory tone, the dramatic, defensive reaction, she was close to her aunt. She wanted to protect her, he assumed. Was she this loyal to Hisoka? Would she protect him despite their apparent troubles? Breaking that loyalty, manipulating her to his side, would be a priority. Trust seemed pivotal in accomplishing that. Otherwise, she would continue to behold him cynically, his words all treated as possible lies.

"That we are working on a project together. Nothing about the Fan Shi, nor who I am beyond my first name." Trying to use the truth and half-truths to manipulate her would likely work, yet… manipulating someone with the truth sounded paradoxical since it wouldn't be outright deceit. "I would say she found me rather charming."

"Of course, she would," Lanfen muttered, glancing to her shoulder, to the bird. She ignored Chrollo completely, quietly whispering to Nemmi, "I know. There's still a broken-off stinger in my back." She paused, before responding, " _You_ need to pull it out, but _you_ flew off."

He frowned slightly as she disappeared back down the hall. Carrying on a conversation with her own Nen, if that thing wasn't sentient… Chrollo couldn't decide what to make of that.

* * *

"I know, Nemmi," she mumbled, pulling on a checkered button-up 'borrowed' from the bedroom closet. It was several sizes to large, but it'd do. Her shirt reeked, so she had Nemmi kindly throw it in the trash who-knows-where a distance away to avoid being linked to her new _friend's_ recent murder. "He's up to something."

Nemmi cawed in agreeance, talons picking apart a pillow, scattering fluff around. He pointed his beak at her pocket, reiterating that Chrollo had been playing with her phone, answering calls like he owned it. She wondered what he had said to Auntie… Lan would have called and asked, but Auntie would lecture her for all the missed and ignored calls over the last week. She didn't have that kind of time. Virgil would soon reappear to take his final chance at catching her- it didn't help that she was throwing aura at Chrollo for minor irritations.

Seeing what Chrollo knew took precedence.

"Come on," she told Nemmi as she walked out of the bedroom into the hall, clock on the wall deafening in the disturbingly quiet house. He perched on her shoulder, eyes severely narrowed as he clicked his beak, nagging her with rationality. "I _know_." While convenient to run into Chrollo in that moment, anything beyond that was questionable. His threat level outweighed his possible usefulness, complicated by his lack of Nen. He would have been more useful with it, of course, but this offered her more control. She was debating whether she could get information on the Fan Shi out of him before promptly ditching him, or not. There would surely be consequences either way. She wasn't quite sure what kind of consequences, to be honest, but there would be something. Always was when playing with Hisoka. Chrollo. She was dealing with Chrollo, now.

Lan paused in the doorway of the kitchen. Suddenly the example of a well-behaved, cultured gentleman, Chrollo had taken a seat at the table, a book in his hand, hair pushed out of his eyes to read unobscured. Perfectly unbothered under such odd circumstances… His eyes flicked to her in acknowledgment before thankfully returning to the book, allowing her to start the conversation. Even like this, his eyes were too intense, too unreadable, too mesmerizing. A step away from pure chaos, Chrollo's eyes were captivating in a manner nearly opposite of Hisoka's. She didn't want to drown into the abyss while admiring it. Again. She was ready to admit to the alarming trend in her choices.

The way Nemmi tightened his grip, he agreed, _Don't you dare._

She rolled her shoulder to silently dismiss Nemmi's valid concern. He snapped his beak in a final warning as she walked into the room, ready to deal with a mistake's mistake- because she sincerely doubted she would have met Chrollo without Hisoka's _help_. After sitting on the countertop, the second chair a mess of splinters from her favorite destructive bird, she crossed her arms over her chest to properly scowl at Chrollo.

"So," she began, unable to stop herself, "how'd you lose your Nen?"

He slowly closed the book, calmly repeating, "It's a Nen curse that someone placed on me." His eyes met hers, nearly challenging to her to ask again. His answer obviously wouldn't change. No matter how polite his words, she felt like she should be intimidated- and, somehow, she was. She glanced away, picking at a string on her sleeve. "I am already working to resolve that," he added, effectively ending that conversation. She supposed she understood. She would be humiliated- okay, she would be terrified- if someone sealed her Nen, especially if she was the leader of an infamous band of thieves.

"That's disappointing." On several levels. He couldn't wipe away her problems… and she couldn't see him use his Nen. She was still so curious. It had to be something amazing. Anything less would also be disappointing. "I can see why Hisoka didn't fight you like this," she added quietly. Bastard failed to explain what happened every time she bothered asking him.

The resulting dead air hinted that she had probably overstepped her bounds. In retrospect, she should have known not to mention Hisoka. If Chrollo orchestrated a massacre in the name of a dead Spider, well, he would probably go to extremes to kill someone that had betrayed the Troupe for the sole, selfish goal of fighting him. Thinking before speaking, she should consider doing it more often. Chrollo might not be that threatening currently, but the second he had his Nen back, he would return to his full terrifying glory. Staying on his good side could only help her, yet what an abysmally terrible job she was doing...

"I still want the Paijin's item," he continued after giving her adequate time to rethink her behavior. "Considering these changed circumstances, I suggest a partnership rather than mandatory cooperation." What a fancy way of saying 'hostage.' Partnership sent up just as many red flags. Somewhere in his words, there was an ulterior motive. She had a nagging feeling that this was all too convenient. That no one in their right mind would go after a trinket guarded by high caliber Nen-users with only an inexperienced twenty-year-old as their protection- even if only briefly. The way he studied her reaction only added to her suspicion.

"Why should I?" Lan's eyes quickly fled his face. He knew she was just being difficult, that she understood the advantages of his suggestion. Earlier made it obvious that she could use some help. Even without his Nen, Chrollo remained resourceful, intelligent, and knowledgeable. He also had the Troupe. Too bad she wasn't ready to admit that. Nemmi egged her on with a squawk. "Are you going to pay me back all the money you stole from me or something?"

"Yes." His deadpan answers never ceased to catch her off guard. He predictably added the caveat of "When this concludes." Lan stiffened when he suddenly moved, Chrollo pausing in clear recognition of her reaction. He pulled a wallet out from his pants pocket, picking through a collection of cards, obviously not hurting for cash either. Jerk had used her money just because he could… "I do, however, have a more immediate reward for you, Lanfen," he said as he finally selected a card to show her.

Lan fell into a speechless silence at the Hunter Association emblem staring back at her. She leaned forward, reading the identification number several times in absolute disbelief and relief and joy. "You…" Her license. She knew her eyes were sparkling, but she couldn't help herself. "You still have it." She thought he might have tossed it aside after stealing her money, sold it to some random collector with no paper trail to lead her back to it.

"I hope this will serve as a peace offering." The moment she stretched to grab it, he tauntingly pulled away, holding it just out her immediate reach. "Although, I first want you to agree that we will fetch the item together."

"Why shouldn't I just take it from you and leave?"

"I'm getting the impression you just enjoy hearing me speak."

She bit her lip, focus anywhere else, as she pretended to consider his kind offer. He hopefully had no idea how true that statement was. Yet, she also didn't like him holding her accountable for her minimal intelligence. Instead of answering questions, he was making her actually think. She also doubted that he would correct her if she guessed wrong.

"I'm not going to protect you." A lie. If Chrollo ended up dead while playing around with her, she would be answering to Hisoka. She didn't want to find out what he would do if she accidentally got his high-priority target maimed. Because Hisoka had to know Nen exorcists existed, right? He wouldn't completely give up on fighting Chrollo after all the trouble he'd gone through, right? She didn't even want to think about the Phantom Troupe's reaction.

The sheer amount of confidence as he promised, "I can handle myself," his eyes reflecting near arrogance with his certainty, the quirk of his lips into a subtle smirk, made her want to swoon as much as punch him.

She picked at her sleeve a moment before mumbling, "Fine." Immediately, she held her hand out expectantly. She sighed in frustration when he didn't forfeit it. Not explicit enough, apparently. "Fine, I'll work with you, give you the item. Now just…" The moment she thought he'd do something childish like pocket the card, or something even stupider like hold it above his head to goad her into lunging for it, she was reminded that he wasn't Hisoka. Just like he said, if she agreed, she would be rewarded with her license.

Holding the scrap of plastic again felt like a momentous victory, a twitch of a smile trying to pull at her lips. She had been near convinced that she would never see it again. For something that she didn't really feel she deserved in the first place, this was her Hunter License, her proof of passing the exam, of her Hunter status.

After forcing her expression back to hopefully neutral and placing her card in its new rightful place with her phone, she got back to the matter at hand. "What do you know about the Fan Shi?" An obvious question to ask since they would be regrettably, possibly, working together now. Chrollo appeared to know more than her… or was just a cocky bastard. She hadn't quite decided which.

"I know of five members." Again, how he said it drove her insane. So… blasé. Like that fact shouldn't implode her mind. When he said he knew them, she felt he knew a bit more than their names, incredibly vague descriptions, faulty memories, and old gifts. Then again, maybe she shouldn't be surprised. They were all powerful Nen-users of similar age originally from Meteor City. He brushed aside her amazement-to-irritation reaction, continuing, "I'm most familiar Sybil and Circe Delphi."

"I've met Sybil and she's on her way now," Lan interrupted, trying to pry for as much information as possible under the guise of helpfulness. She was still debating if she should ditch him and keep trying to run from the Fan Shi or not. Accepting his help would mean actually confronting them.

The way he paused, the seriousness in his voice and expression as he said, "That could be problematic." the string wrapped around her finger promptly snapped. "Sybil's ability functions as a scale determined by how long it's charged. With your current ability, you can maybe survive a three-minute charge, presuming you prioritize escape. Anything above that is rather questionable."

"Your confidence in me is so reassuring."

"That's simply reality. It often takes two Spiders to deal with her after eight. You remember Feitan, I'm sure." Her narrowed eyes made it obvious she very much remembered the Troupe's kind torturer that had snapped her finger in half. It also proved a fantastic example of how powerful Sybil was. "He often dealt with Sybil's visits with Uvogin's assistance." The other name held no meaning to her, but the way Chrollo spoke it, the minute dip in in his voice that almost sounded sad… "Without Uvo, it may now take a total of three members to subdue her," he said absently, mostly to himself.

The member they lost in Yorknew, the one that they committed a massacre to honor, that must have been this Uvogin. Months had passed, yet Chrollo still seemed genuinely disturbed by the death- although Lan questioned if it was an act, a lie, to trick her into trusting him. Still, Chrollo at least remembered the member they lost. Hisoka would have forgotten. He probably had.

"Circe is another matter," he said after watching whatever expressions happened to play across her face. She didn't like it, the way he was so carefully studying her. His intense scrutiny of her every movement… Now she knew how Nemmi felt back in Yorknew. "While not as overwhelmingly powerful, she is markedly more intelligent and uses a variety of poisons in conjunction with her Nen. She could prove just as troublesome to you."

Lan didn't really have much to say with him crushing her hopes like this. She hoped against reason that the Fan Shi's strength compared, not exceeded, Virgil's. In actuality, she might be fighting their weakest member. And she thought her pride couldn't be taken lower…

"It has admittedly been some time since I've seen the other three."

She was beginning to notice that if he bothered mentioning something, there was a reason. Might not be particularly relevant, but certainly interesting. He was interesting, truthfully, annoyingly. "How long ago, exactly?"

"Twenty years." The dramatic pause was barely necessary to shock her for amusement's sake. "When Fanghe recruited them."

He had to have been, like, eight at the oldest (she still had no idea how old he was), yet he had had the audacity to follow Fanghe around Meteor City while she picked up children to use. Lan seriously questioned how he avoided being drafted into the Fan Shi, prime candidate he was. His reputation now may have made her biased, as she couldn't imagine child Chrollo as anything less than a prodigy, but still. Chrollo as a child was hard enough to imagine, mostly because that made him seem almost human.

"Lanfen, you're easily distracted," he commented to earn her full attention and an irritated scowl. "I can describe them, although I only know them by nicknames." Well, Lan thought, that was the opposite of what she had for information. "A pale girl with a potentially lethal infection eating away at her left side. She went by Paper-"

"-clips," Lan finished, Nemmi shuffling on her shoulder at her discomfort. Paperclips, again. No wonder her father had freaked out over her playing with paperclips. One of the Fan Shi used them as a nickname as well as a hobby. She stared at her lap, fiddling with her sleeve's hem while mumbling, "Her name's Minji. She has metal prostheses now." Even with less advanced treatments twenty years ago, it had to be a near fatal infection for her to completely lose both limbs, possibly part of her face. Maybe that's how Fanghe convinced her to join the Fan Shi. Meteor City, Minji would have inevitably died there. "Also, a scar across her throat." A rather startling characteristic, Chrollo wouldn't have skipped over something so prominent if it had been there in the past. It happened during her time with the Fan Shi. "From what I know, she was Fanghe's understudy, possibly the leader of the Fan Shi now. She's also a doctor." After the initial run-in with her, Lan had tried searching for information on her. Minji only took cases that were either personally interesting or absurdly difficult. Her private life remained a mystery despite her sparkling reputation as a surgical specialist- which was unnerving because that simply meant she was outstandingly good at dissecting people without killing them.

"A boy, a few years older than the rest, dark skin, disfiguring burns on the right side of his face."

"Joan," she answered, not needing a nickname this time. Auntie had described Joan as having burn scars, so, presumably, that's who Chrollo was talking about. The one that had attacked the compound with Virgil, she would recognize his voice. Two out of three with traumatic childhood injuries, Fanghe must have been deliberately targeting desperate children. "That's all I know about him."

"I presume Stink-bug is the one after you."

As funny as it was to hear Chrollo listing such silly names so seriously, that Virgil's nickname was so astoundingly apt, Lan just nodded quietly, understanding she had the most information on him. "Virgil. His aura mimics pheromones. He attaches a portion to a target through physical contact, and then uses it to direct anything nearby that relies on pheromones as communication." As much as she complained about his 'bugs,' the uptight researcher in her needed to specify that it effected arachnids as well as insects. "He has a conjuration ability that must act as a holding area for the creatures he keeps with him. I've seen him use two species so far: flesh wasps and sun-gazer scorpions." Everything else had come from the immediate environment. She _still_ hadn't seen any sign of the chimera ants, either. (She really hoped he hadn't dumped them somewhere to wreak havoc on some unsuspecting ecosystem. Knuckle had gathered a bit more information on them before Sybil showed up, and they were… dangerous. Devouring entire species to extinction, they needed to be contained to protect everything else.)

"There's a sixth," Lan added, pulling her attention away from blissful hunter work and her less threatening lap to focus on Chrollo. Nemmi might be diligently watching him for any suspect movements, but she should be too. She couldn't rely on Nemmi to be her eyes all the time; Virgil's half-assed disguise reinforced that notion today. "A woman called Adalei. Blonde, tanned skin, and a lot of scars." _Scared me into Hisoka's arms, if that's any show of her possible strength,_ she mentally added. Of course, now she had a better idea of why the aura had startled her so badly. Even Virgil's inflicted a sort of inexplicable dread, made more than her skin crawl, made her body feel wrong.

Lan all but catapulted herself off the counter, whipping around, eyes narrowed at a wall. Nemmi nervously shuffled on her shoulder, squawking. A burst of Ren outside, nearby, within three or less blocks. Decidedly _not_ Virgil's. He would have sneaked up on them, not revealed his location. Unless he hired a higher caliber thug with Nen to do the luring for him. Could be an ambush.

So much for a pleasant conversation.


	22. A Minor Dilemma: Easily Enamored

Lanfen shot off the counter, spinning around to promptly stare at a covered window. Quite obviously startled by something Chrollo couldn't readily sense, he presumed Nen to be the culprit.

"It's not Virgil?" she reported, inflection marking the statement with surprise. "He might have hired some distractions." She paced to the window, peeking out the curtain before huffing, not finding an easy answer. "Nemmi, go take a look. Find and count the number of Nen-users, and then anyone else that seems to be accompanying them. Leave out the back."

Chrollo quietly questioned the exchange. She seemed unsure of the source, yet certain it wasn't Virgil. The ability to pick out specific aura signatures without En was difficult to master, and the further away, the more difficult the task became. Especially with quick bursts of energy- and he assumed that's what happened if she couldn't pinpoint the user from here without sending Nemmi as confirmation. While by no means unskilled, he hadn't expected this from her. In fact, he didn't believe it. Something else was at work.

Her eyes followed the bird as it left the room. Glass shattering on the opposite end of the house made her roll her eyes and mumble, "Forgot to tell you to not make a mess. Like always."

Chrollo set aside his interest as she hastily began gathering her things from the table: a single phone charger and a bag. He already had his backpack haphazardly fixed by lining it with a pillow case. (A needle and thread would have been nice. Having Machi fix it for him, for her to dryly joke he never could sew well, he would have preferred that even more.) With Greed Island packed away and the stolen book- a disappointing science fiction novel that much relied on nonsensical scientific babble to hide underlying plot holes, while clumsily presenting the 'aliens' as the culmination of human brilliance that the common man should rise against to maintain their currently 'perfect' society- behind the console, he was ready to leave whenever Lanfen collected herself.

"Any brilliant ideas?" Lanfen snapped the second she stepped away from the table, expecting immediate action, somehow finding irritation in his calmness. Her expression quickly changed from annoyance to mortification as she realized she had both yelled at him for nothing and, far worse, that she was already looking to him for guidance.

Chrollo stood, more shattered glass punctuating the silence. Lanfen glanced off to the side to avoid looking at him. She preferred to not meet eyes unless directly challenging him, he noticed. Mostly because she didn't like to be caught staring at him with unyielding interest that bordered on lustful- Hisoka her opposite in this regard, his preference to leave everyone uncomfortably aware of his desires. Her attention went to the table, deep gouges being drawn into the wood in two rows. Three lines and seven lines with a plus sign, respectively.

Nemmi -strange name for an ability, much like Blinky was- remained a rather odd choice for a transmuter given its observations were not automatically relayed to Lanfen, nor her control over it resolute despite issuing it orders. She treated it more like a separate entity, a pet, _a companion_ , than an extension of her own life force. Even if a number of restrictions were necessary for her to achieve this bizarre and unique application of Nen, the question of why bother remained. Unless, of course, creating a companion had been paramount to function. Loneliness had driven people to do stranger things, he supposed.

"Three Nen-users," she said, holding her arm out when the bird littered the table with several dozen impatient scratches. While she put an odd amount of concentration into trivial information, he walked past her to provide an incredibly simple solution to the current issue. A solution that happened to be tightly clutched in the fingers of a dead man.

"Lanfen." He had her immediate attention; she reacted to his voice as obediently as the Spiders. Her dramatic, near comical, look of offence at the car keys in his hand, that was the difference. She quietly followed him out the door, refusing to look at him again out of some odd form of dejection.

They found the car in the driveway, Lanfen getting in the passenger side without complaint. (And he was used to complaints. His Spiders liked to argue over who got the mildly more exciting job of driver, or who got crammed next to Uvo or Franklin. A few times they ended up with a fleet of stolen vehicles because no one wanted to be packed together.) With the sun about to dip below the horizon, final brilliant wisps of daylight blinding, he decided to drive in the opposite direction, back into the city. They would likely be switching vehicles or finding alternative transport to avoid Virgil. Lanfen also didn't offer him a reason not to, instead choosing to childishly sulk over the situation, arms crossed over her chest as she sunk into the seat.

A stray bullet shattered the back window as residential began to morph back into industrial.

"Nemmi, go kill them," Lanfen ordered, pent up bloodlust and irritation leaching into her aura as she scanned the streets. She quickly controlled herself, realizing she would make them a beacon. "Virgil's been hiring mafia thugs as distractions." More gunfire, bullets striking metal before burrowing into the back of the car. She slammed her head back into the seat with a groan. Tires squealing, two cars raced to catch them, painting her expression with frustration. "This is more excessive than usual. He's still trying to catch me before Sybil arrives, I guess." She eloquently complained, "stupid bug-bastard," beneath her breath, pouting at her luck. She was certainly more pleasant when not terrified that one misplaced word would be her death sentence, Chrollo her executioner. If she dropped the standoffish attitude towards him, her company would be even more pleasant.

The pursuing vehicles attempted to box them in by driving on either side, their stolen vehicle not quite made for high-speed chases through narrow streets. A man leaned out a window, pistol in hand, haphazardly shooting at their tires. Surely not a marksman. Chrollo could see why Lanfen was annoyed… These were just more flies. He hit the brakes, Lanfen's hands slamming in the dashboard to just barely keep her from flying into the windshield. She aimed a glare at him. Her frown faded when the mafia drivers flew by them, tires shrieking as they tried to turn around. One car's windshield exploded into a rain of glass, blood spraying in an arc before the wheel jerked the side to crash into the other in a din of twisting metal and screaming. She seemed proud of the bird's work, a trace of a smile trying to form on her lips. Not adverse to blood and violence, obviously.

The car lifted off the ground.

A concussive bang echoed in the air, a small explosion plowing through the hood, into the engine, force enough to flip the car onto its roof. Lanfen had time to brace herself, Nen preventing glass from slicing apart her skin. Despite being able to wedge himself against the door and the steering wheel, shards of glass left a decent cut across his forearm and a few lesser cuts elsewhere.

"You're alive, right?" Lanfen awkwardly kicked the door open before glancing at him. Her eyes landed on the blood dripping down his arm, but she didn't comment, her expression… interesting. The precious hostility had faded now that he was injured. She mostly appeared disappointed, finding his lack of Nen just as disheartening as Hisoka had. But, hiding behind that, mild concern.

"Perfectly so," he said, prying his own door open so he didn't have to sit upside down while dealing with his bleeding arm.

"Good." They both stepped - _crawled_ felt like another blow to his dignity- out onto opposite sides of the smoking car, taking stock of the situation. Two groups stood a distance apart. Several wore matching clothes, their leader a bulky man in dark sunglasses, scars and tattoos filling the exposed skin of his arms as he tossed away a leather coat. The perfect mafia underlings: a street gang. The other two men were a bit more eccentric, with bright hair, elaborate clothes, and many piercings, style decidedly punk-inspired. Hunters, most likely.

"Do whatever you want as long it doesn't involve dying," Lanfen said as an afterthought, the suggestion sounding a bit too much like an order. She feared the consequences if he ended up dead, then. A shame. She wasn't already attached to him. Although, he could work with attraction just as well.

"Who do you think you are?" the Hunter with bright orange hair shouted at the gang's ringleader, pointing accusingly. "She's our target, so step off, dude! Or else we're handing you over to the police for interfering in official Hunter business!"

"Do you know who you're dealing with, kid?" The bulky man slammed his fist into his open hand, brow twitching with as much irritation as Lanfen's. Their chattering seemed to make her want to commit mass murder. He didn't understand what kept her from starting; she didn't seem polite enough to wait for enemies to finish speaking. She certainly had no problem interrupting him. "We're part of the Cosanos family, and this is our turf. You don't have any-"

"Bando," the blue-haired Hunter declared himself, pointing to his friend to introduce him as "Lino. We're Blacklist Hunters, so this _is_ our business."

"Last time I checked, I wasn't on the blacklist," Lanfen said flatly, astonishingly coldly. Her aura flared with far more raw irritation than she had been aiming at him. She wanted them gone. "Get out of here. This really isn't your concern." Yet she didn't want to fight them, it seemed. Of course, killing other Hunters was one of the few things that offended the Hunter Association. (They tried to pin a few murders on Shalnark, once. He acquitted himself through a series of killings by controlling a manipulator with similar abilities, Feitan cleaning up a few loose ends.) She must like being a Hunter to protect her status at a time like this.

"You might not be on the Blacklist, but that poacher is!" Bando shot back. "He's been following you around for weeks, so you're either his associate or a good piece of bait."

She was an outstanding piece of bait. In fact, this confrontation might be enough to lure Virgil right to them. They should take care of this quickly before leaving the city to make additional plans. While he didn't fear Sybil, she would prove a homicidal nuisance if she learned he had lost his Nen, and, subsequently, access to her ability. Lanfen wouldn't survive that confrontation.

"And that guy!" Lino pointed to Chrollo as he innocently tied his bandana, formerly covering the cross on his forehead, around his arm as a bandage in preparation for fighting since everyone else seemed adequately distracted by Lanfen. Chrollo slipped his jacket sleeve back on, used to his reputation proceeding him. "I saw a picture from Yorknew on the net a while back! I swear, he looks just like the Phantom Troupe's leader!"

"Really?" Lanfen directed that at him more than the Hunters, her eyebrow raised. "You let the _mafia_ get a picture of you?" He didn't respond, her observation a fair point. Perhaps it wasn't his most brilliant idea to leave fake corpses in the hands of the mafia, their information control notoriously poor. The mafia might have taken everything down the moment they learned the Troupe's connection to Meteor City, fearing further retribution, but that left enough time for the information to find a few foolish Hunters. While not really a problem, even under these circumstances, it was tiresome to be needlessly interrupted over it.

"We're getting paid to catch princess, here." Lanfen's aura chilled the air as she bristled at the man's comment. "No way a couple of half-assed Hunters are getting in the way of the Cosanos family!"

"We already-" The Hunter's words caught with absolute horror.

The heads of two gunman fell to the side with a spray of blood, Nemmi's distraction providing Lanfen ample time to sprint forward. Her other ability tore into the mafia hire's arm, a string of flesh gruesomely keeping it from being fully severed. If not for the man stepping away in the last second as he came to the stunning realization she was far more skilled, he might have been eviscerated. She spun around to catch his fist on her arm, his hand being sliced apart to reinforce the power discrepancy between them. The man visibly paled as she narrowed her eyes, let her bloodlust slip again. Gunfire filled tense air as the other gang members tried to save their clearly outmatched leader. The bullets annoyed her less than the flies buzzing in her face.

The two Hunters found distraction in Lanfen's violent, frustrated hacking away at the leader, in the one-sided chaos of their confrontation. Chrollo drew his Ben's knife, intending to quicken the process.

* * *

Another few strikes and the unnamed gang leader would be collapsing from blood loss, dying in a screaming pile at her feet. It brightened her day, honestly. It felt nice to be winning for once, this enhancer not even a match for what Virgil could do- and that was sad, considering bug-bastard still paled in comparison to Hisoka. The fact less bullets were striking her also pleased her; she caught a glimpse of Chrollo stabbing a guy in the back, and, well, she liked what she saw more than she should. He proved useful even without Nen- and his finesse, the lack of blood showering over him, was mesmerizing.

Orange-head decided to ruin the visual. Lino charged at her the second the enhancer fell to his knees in pained exhaustion, Lino's hand glowing with sunlight-hued Nen. He leapt into the air, swinging downwards, conjured sword materializing in tightly gripped hands. She leaned to the side, his sword slamming into the ground to buckle asphalt. She spun on her heel. Her elbow struck his ribs with the spin's momentum, Arri tearing into skin before Lino scrambled to get away with gashes rather than rendered bone.

She flew forward with a hit to the back, hands digging into the ground to keep her from rolling. Lan flipped onto her feet in time for the edge of Lino's sword to bury in her arm- as in giving her a thin cut, damaging her shirt and patience more than her skin. She coughed a few times, air knocked out of her from the blast. Her ears rang from how absurdly loud Bando's Nen explosion was. It drew way too much attention. Even if the street appeared deserted, the noise, people would hear it from blocks away, assume a bomb went off, and send the city into a panic. They'd be on the news, and Lan didn't much like being on tv, and…

"Nemmi," she whispered as he landed on her shoulder, noticing her signal to come regroup, "help Chrollo avoid any Nen attacks for now." Bando's hit probably bruised her entire back; she didn't need Chrollo to get caught in it. She had enough problems without her new 'advantage' dying. Nemmi stared at her with the equivalent of an eye roll, making his stance on Chrollo known once more before flapping his wings.

These two Hunters were her current issue. _Fellow_ Hunters… She could probably avoid prosecution by claiming self-defense, which it honestly was for once, but, if that didn't pan out… What do innocent people do when falsely accused? She was usually guilty of _something_ , but this debacle was pure happenstance.

Another explosion and crater almost made her throw diplomacy out the window. "You do know the Association doesn't appreciate Hunters drawing attention with senseless destruction, right?" She wasn't even a blacklist target. They couldn't justify all this destruction to capture a hostage to then use to catch a relatively low-priority bounty- poaching as a serious crime was disproportionately overlooked, even if these chimera ants were an arguable threat if they got loose. The Hunters didn't seem sure about Chrollo's identity, either. If they were, they would have never taken their eyes off of him. _She_ was wary of him, and he was her supposed ally now!

"It's worth it as long as we catch the target!" Lino defended, charging for her again. He swung his sword parallel to the ground, energy snapping with loud _BANG_ to unleash a shockwave. She jumped upwards, grabbing a toppling street light to launch herself further in the air as he swung again. The building behind her began to crumble in a rain of glass and brick, two strikes enough to weaken the old structure substantially. All this noise… She could hear sirens approaching now. Worse, a few stupidly brave people were gawking, their faces pressed to the windows of adjacent buildings. Next, the phones would be out. Then Virgil would arrive. "And you're a murderer," Lino added with absolute fury, "so I don't think there's much of a problem if we take you in too."

She knocked away his sword, Arri screeching against conjured metal. He looked furious with her lack of reaction at the accusation. This moralistic attitude, the focus on his target over the collateral damage, he was blind to what he did in collapsing a building. Even if she didn't particularly care, wouldn't bother pointing it out usually, the Hunter obviously would care. He called her a murderer for killing a gang leader and a few lackeys; innocents would break him. He had just provided her the perfect fuel for a quick end. A solution that wouldn't require a lot of aura output for Virgil to sense.

"Are you saying you wouldn't have fought back?" Lan was never good with taunts, preferring blissful, quiet mayhem to flowery speeches, so she tried to channel the most infuriating person she knew. His teasing tone, the theatrical pauses and expressions, acting was just a lie, and she was a liar. She could manage… Lino took another swing, catching the sleeve of her ill-fitting shirt. His jaw clenched tightly in refusal to answer her simple question, so, with a hand on her hip, she smiled brightly, wanting to punch herself in the face. "He had a chance to run," she said, hopping back a short distance to avoid needing to flare her aura protectively. Hisoka had taught her that talking did have a place in battle. Unhinging people distracted them like nothing else. Still made her want to gag, though. "He _chose_ ," she stressed, "to fight me. Now, tell me, did you give them a choice? Give them the option to run away?"

"What are you talking about?" His shout was punctuated with a blast from Bando, the ground exploding as she traced his aim. It took almost a full second for him to raise his hand, aim, and use his Hatsu ability. Seemed like adequate time. The silver gleam off a knife in the shadows, mister criminal mastermind agreed with her plan, and if _that_ didn't flatter her…

"I wonder," she began, sweeping her arm to side to present the toppled building, "how many innocent people did you just crush?" The delivery paired with a grin, it tipped Lino over the edge a lot faster than expected. He ran forward, wildly swinging his sword in some mix of distress and loathing. The rhythm in his attacks prevented further surprises. She signaled to Nemmi, directed him to Bando with a single look to give her 'friend' ample opportunity.

Lan dropped beneath the sword, feet digging into the ground to launch herself forward. Arri covered her hand. Lino desperately tried to swing downwards, understanding his mistake. Her Nen sliced open his calf, made him stumble to keep his balance as she ended up behind him. Her foot met his back as Bando screamed out a string of frantic curses. Nemmi's talons carved bloody lines into the man's face as he flared his Nen, blindly swatting at an invisible bird to hold his defenses. Chrollo stepped out of the shadows like the gorgeous nightmare he was, a wickedly curved knife in hand, eyes scrutinizing his target's every move, waiting patiently, calmly. As Lino's chin slammed into the ground, Lan's heel dug into his neck with a sharp crack, her attention stolen. Bando's eyes lit with Gyo. In that pause, that brief second as his defenses dropped, a knife was buried deep in his back. The Hunter limply fell to the ground without further resistance, hinting that the knife had poison on it as well and just... Chrollo, he didn't even need Nemmi's help to create an opening. He could certainly handle himself, confidence one-hundred percent justified and certifiably attractive.

Lan really needed to stop drooling over Chrollo with the fight over, but she couldn't tear her eyes off of him _because just imagine what he could do with Nen_. Nemmi screeching in her ear barely fazed her. Chrollo casually searching through the man's pockets brought her out of one stupor and exchanged it for another: curiosity. She slowly walked over to him, attempting to tame her wonder- she remembered what he had said in Yorknew, about her looking at him like Hisoka looked at him. Nothing helped, twitch of an approving smile on her lips.

He glanced at her once she stood at his side, watching over his shoulder. "You're quite the actress," he commented, pulling out a wad of cash from the Hunter's wallet before flicking through cards.

"You could tell?" Sarcasm, of course. Forbid if she regularly acted like that.

"You can mimic his expressions well." The comment, his tone made it sound like a harmless observation, but mentioning it, it seemed like something more. Like a comparison easily taken as an insult because- "You must have spent a considerable amount of time with him."

That made her choke on her words like an elbow to the ribs. She hadn't considered it before, but Hisoka had been part of the Troupe for a while. Chrollo had spent more time with him. Her face-to-face interactions with Hisoka were limited to only a handful of encounters. She… she didn't like the cold tug at her heart that accompanied this realization. It wasn't really jealousy, per se, yet… it was. She felt jealous that Chrollo had the opportunity to spend so much more time with Hisoka before… before that bastard betrayed them, abandoned them in the name of fleeting pleasure. Because Chrollo thought of the Troupe as his friends, right? In the very least, they were important to him. That meant Hisoka too, at one time.

The moment Chrollo pulled out a Hunter License, threatened to look at her, Lan chose to brush over uncomfortable thoughts with infuriating trivialities. "Why do I never think to check corpses!?" she pouted with undue offence, because, clearly, that was her greatest downfall. Not misplaced empathy.

Chrollo found some sort of amusement in her outburst, the intensity of his gaze not as heavy as he looked at her. He beckoned her to follow him with just a look, red and blue lights striking on pale skin, in grey irises, the quirk of a smile on his lips the definition of charming…

Lan lagged behind him, their pace between a run and a jog through blocks of empty side-streets and dark alleys as they cleared the immediate crime scene. She fought a giddy smile, the ridiculousness of the situation fighting irrational desires, her sleep deprived brain struggling to control unwarranted bloodlust to maintain Zetsu.

Focusing on the ridiculous was all she could do to keep herself from foolishness best not repeated. Chrollo Lucilfer, mighty leader of the Phantom Troupe, was running away from the cops like a common pickpocket caught in the act; although, in truth, she understood they were avoiding Virgil and possibly Sybil. She tasked Nemmi with watching for trouble when he continued to quietly snap his beak at her whirlwind thoughts instead of at irksome bugs.

Such a weird day, she was almost ninety percent sure this was a grand hallucination brought on by venom intoxication. It had to be, with these butterflies fluttering in her stomach, the euphoria eating at her heart to kill her brain. Otherwise, it would be a crush, and crushes sucked.

"What now?" she asked as he slowed to a walk, the pause clearly meant for discussion. Maybe focusing on her current problems would help her avoid creating another. Sirens in the distance made her add, "I'd say we've left a bit of an impression here." Or maybe she could ditch him now... She might get away if she had him arrested for this recent mess- although that also sounded like arranging her own funeral in a way.

"How have you tried to avoid Virgil?" A rather innocent sounding question from him. Her position behind him forced him to glance over his shoulder to see her.

"Stolen vehicles, mostly." She swatted a particularly fat moth out of her face, grimacing. She might as well be a streetlight in the dark with all the bugs clinging to her. "Bringing a horde of bugs onto public transit hasn't gone over well." Create enough of a disturbance, and someone inevitably called the police. Sirens and police reports, Virgil used them to narrow in on her location multiple times.

Chrollo stopped walking long enough that he was at her side rather than safely in front of her where she could monitor his every movement. If he didn't maintain the distance he did, if he invaded her personal space like a certain magician loved to do, she might have had a valid reason to complain. He seemed well aware of that, too. "Then we'll take public transit to the next city as we wait for his ability to wear off." Made sense to do the opposite of what she had been doing, considering her lack of success, but he ignored half of what she said. Just as she opened her mouth to remind him of the swarm of nighttime bugs clouding around her, since he somehow forgot, he simply reassured, "I'll get rid of them."

Her eyes narrowed at the deliberately vague answer. That nearly smug attitude, playing to her curiosity, he had to be up to something beyond securing the item. He seemed to be testing her boundaries, observing her closely, gathering information for some end.

She attempted to ignore him, taking her phone out only to glare at the bugs landing on the screen. "There's a train station a couple of blocks away from here. In about half an hour, there's one leaving north, first stop about an hour in." Back the direction she had just come from, but what did it matter? The whole week she had been running around blindly just hoping to get away from Virgil. They had no destination in mind yet anyway. With a slight nod, he agreed, allowing her to direct them- even if he refused to budge from her side, matching her pace instead.

While Chrollo seemed content with the silence, it ate at her. Her usual companions adored filling pauses with chatter. Hisoka, well, he was an attention whore. If he wasn't constantly entertained, he would solve his boredom in some unfortunate manner, usually at her expense. Talking helped avoid pranks. Knuckle and Morel were pleasant enough company, though she kept the conversation topics impersonal despite their best efforts. Shoot also appreciated silence- and he seemed almost scared of her, weirdly enough. Lapses in conversations with them, however, rarely felt like this.

Although, this didn't feel awkward so much as unsettling. To her. Albeit not as intimidating without Nen, he still lulled her into that damned false sense of security with his unflinchingly calm demeanor. If she let her guard down enough, she'd be the one with a fancy, poisoned knife stabbed in her back.

She busied herself with her phone again. They would have about twenty minutes before the train left. In that time, she needed new clothes. The shirt she had borrowed had been singed and sliced already. Her pants were a terrifying combination of torn, mud-and-blood stained, and disgustingly unwashed. Next to Chrollo, she looked ridiculous. He didn't even have a speck of… Of anyone else's blood on him.

"Chrollo," she began, her voice accidentally timid. His name, the last time she said it, Hisoka smashed her face into a wall. It bizarrely felt like a curse word now. Gaining his attention with it also reinforced that he really was walking at her side. "How's your arm?" While hanging upside down in an overturned car and with only a quick glance, the largest cut looked, in the very least, painful.

With a half-second pause, Chrollo studied her. Then he all but killed her with a subtle, disarming smile, reassuring her, "I'll be fine, Lanfen."

He almost seemed genuinely touched with her concern. She shouldn't have found that charming. Shouldn't find herself so easily enamored with him and his oddness. Another game with a different liar, distant fascination was the boundary, and she wouldn't be crossing it this time, infatuation be damned.

"And you?" Her quiet confusion, how her brows pushed together as she struggled to honestly acknowledge polite concern in the wake of hers, Chrollo slowly blinked before looking away. "Are you injured?" he asked again, voice then devoid of any emotion.

"Just some bruises," she finally answered, returning her phone to her pocket to escape the moment. He didn't need to know about the stiffness in her limbs, the heat radiating from the wasp stings, and the welt on the back of her head. It didn't hurt. It wouldn't hinder her much. It was nothing to concerned over. "There's a few stores near the station," she reported to escape that topic. "We can change clothes." Safe to assume he understood the need. This wasn't just for her comfort and vanity. They didn't need any more mundane interruptions in the aftermath of the first. Different clothes would help. Minimally.

"That's our plan, then," he confirmed, the emphasis on _our_ intentional or imagined.

Lan kept her mouth shut and her eyes forward to ignore her newest companion. She finally decided. She wouldn't ditch him. For now, at least. Because he was useful, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Lan and Chrollo’s misadventure to obtain the item before the Fan Shi begins! As does Lan fumbling with her poorly timed and aimed crush. Someone help Nemmi; it’s a hard job, being Lan’s rational side at times like these. 
> 
> If any fellow writer ever, ever, feels like they don’t know how to name characters, think of me. Bando and Lino were named after a shoe brand. While in the process of writing this chapter, I probably spent 10 hours of insanity relabeling every shoe box at work; fun times, retail. No name can be worse than Bando and Lino, trust me. Despite their demise, this isn’t the last time they’re mentioned, so don't forget they're ridiculous names :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos!


	23. Eastward: Honest Dishonesty

He found that Lanfen had arrived before him. She stood off to the side by a window, tapping her foot as she held a heated phone conversation. In their fifteen minutes apart, he had exchanged his torn shirt and jacket, properly bandaged his arm, got something to eat, and secured the solution to Lanfen's pest problem. Lanfen found a new outfit, as well as the nearby biker-themed store judging the boots and leather. She must enjoy playing dress-up. Every time they met, she wore something vastly different in style, from modest to garish. A rather useless fact but entertaining nonetheless. It should be no surprise that he enjoyed eccentrics.

Although, it was debatable if she had accomplished much else beyond finding clothes and making a phone call.

"I know." In the window's reflection, he caught her rolling her eyes in overdramatic exasperation. "Auntie, seriously, just…" she trailed off when she noticed him approaching, also using the reflection to her advantage since Nemmi was supposedly busy patrolling the area. She had learned her lesson on observation, apparently. Now if only she had better impulse control and concentration. "No, he's…" She sighed, rubbing her temple with her free hand. "Look, I have to go." After rather rudely hanging up without another word, she turned to him, face fixed in a neutral expression. "You didn't lie, I guess."

About what he had said to her aunt? Not at all. Had she been so concerned she felt the need to call back so soon? "You must be close to her," he commented, seeing if she would take the bait. She stared at him, wholly unamused. Especially as one of many flies landed on her forehead. "Shall we get rid of those?" he suggested as she swatted it away with absolute disdain. However did she deal with Hisoka if simple bugs annoyed her so badly? They all had a certain dislike of insects, especially cockroaches, but Phinks found them the most detestable. Mostly because his cats occasionally brought him hordes of fleas. Phinks sometimes referred to Hisoka as gigantic flea that needed to shut up or fuck off. The others tended to agree.

"Yeah," she mumbled, quick to follow, but trailing a few steps behind him again.

He let her be, instead choosing to look around. Not a popular destination with the festivities here, nor a popular hour for travel to begin with, the station was nearly empty. That worked out well for them. He pushed the bathroom door open, glancing over his shoulder. As expected, Lanfen raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him _what are you up to now?_ Her curiosity overruled suspicion, and she followed him in without further reassurance or explanation. While undeniably, rationally wary of him, she found him entertaining enough to humor odd requests just to see what he would do. As a bonus, she was very easily impressed.

With the door closed behind them and no one else seemingly around for the show, he produced an aerosol can and lighter from the inside pocket of his new jacket. Spraying chemicals in her face to kill the bugs was ill-advised, even for a Nen-user. Repellents, he doubted they would overpower Virgil's ability. Her method of having Nemmi snatch bugs out of the air was more than just tedious and ineffective- though a bit entertaining to watch, as he could only see squished bodies falling to the ground. Fire, on the other hand…

She pressed her lips together in a failed attempt to fight a grin. Her eyes sparkled until he flicked the lighter open. "W-wait," she stuttered, frowning at her unsteady voice while holding her hands up defensively. She spun around to face the wall, hiding her face while she mumbled, "I wanted to turn around first."

"Afraid of fire?" Pyrophobia was common enough. He'd seen the disfiguring aftermath more than once; burns were such awful things.

"Not really." Passive, said without a defensive edge, he almost wanted to believe that lie. To some degree, she must either fear or, in the very least, dislike fire. He doubted anything else could force her attention- admiration or suspicion filled- from him to leave her back defenseless. Or, had he earned a bit of trust?

Without further warning, he used the makeshift flamethrower. What started insects alight should have also singed hair and clothes. Instead, with burnt bodies falling to tiled floor, her aura acted as a barrier against weak flames.

He thought as much.

"You don't trust me," he stated as he tossed the near-empty aerosol can into the garbage, shoes crushing smoldering corpses as he stepped away from her.

Lanfen brushed herself off, making a point of adjusting her clothes after glancing at him. She made no attempt to deny the observation, instead pointing out, "You seem amused by that."

"Somewhat," he admitted, following her out, walking at her side as they moved towards the ticket window, "because it's contradictory."

"How so?"

"You've been very willing to trust my plans."

"I can't trust your intelligence?"

"Isn't that akin to trusting me on some level?"

"Nope." Lanfen shoved her hands into her pockets as she ended the back and forth. "It's trusting my assumptions. Sort of like how you assume I won't kill you because its in my best interests not to. I still could, but I probably won't." Her eyes flickered to him for a reaction she didn't receive. Unless she had been hoping for him to think that that sounded completely reasonable. "You _probably_ not killing me is better than the certainty of Virgil catching me. For now."

They stepped in front of the counter, a bored, older woman leaned behind it. As she opened her mouth to deliver practiced lines, Lanfen, tactful girl she was, interrupted, "Two for Rascon City." She offered her Hunter License as the woman tried to inquire about payment, public transport free. Absolutely charming how absolutely inept she was with common courtesy. It was like watching some of his rowdier Spiders eat at a five-star restaurant.

He took out his borrowed license when the worker looked to him for a translation. Lanfen had yet to notice she had been speaking Anchian since getting off the phone; he wanted to see how long it would take her to notice.

"You Hunters must have it good," the woman grumbled, piecing together the information without help, neglecting to verify the cards beyond checking their authenticity. For such minor things, people rarely fussed, deciding their time was better spent avoiding small talk with strange customers. That fact was very convenient for him. "Not paying for anything while raking it in," the worker added, Lanfen taking the licenses and tickets from her, clearly not listening.

"What _did_ you spend all of my money on?" she asked, passing the stolen license back to him with a ticket, careful to avoid his fingers. While she kept her gaze out the window, he caught her making a face. At the ground. Fresh scratches on concrete were the only hint that the Nen bird waited impatiently outside. She mouthed something to it, the scratching ceasing. A defined personality for a Nen creature… She truly treated her Nen as an imaginary friend.

"Whatever I couldn't readily take." His response earned him a glare. If he had the opportunity to charge the account attached to her license, he did so. He had wanted to lure her to him anyway. Eventually, the information would reach the Hunter Website; he assumed she had Hunter associates that could help her. Maybe she didn't, considering the bird. He debated adding that he had also used it to get into a few museums to steal pieces to fund his mission to find an exorcist- and because he liked them. She'd reluctantly appreciate the story, he was sure.

"You're infuriating," she mumbled as she looked away, attention back on Nemmi. After a few moments, she began fidgeting, tugging at her sleeve.

How did someone so seemingly anxious tolerate Hisoka? Most people found him unnerving for a multitude of rational reasons. Instead, Lanfen appeared more bothered by Chrollo. Perhaps it was born of familiarity; she had known Hisoka longer, had had time to adjust to his quirks enough to tolerate him and his brand of whimsy. All she knew of Chrollo was his reputation, their brief conversation in Yorknew, and the last hour. She may also trust Hisoka- Chrollo had, once, so, while perhaps foolish, it was possible. Or, as she said, she may trust her observations more than Hisoka himself. He felt that explanation might have been a practiced lie, though. It sounded rehearsed with how quickly she had responded, whereas she hesitated at least half a second when asked anything else.

Stranger, he couldn't quite comprehend her vehemence towards lies. Lanfen was a liar herself. Hisoka lied better than Chrollo had first believed. For her to trust Hisoka while finding lies so detestable, it didn't make sense. Whatever dynamic the two shared, with his limited observations of the two together, he didn't completely understand it. Maybe he had presumed too much, that she was just a bedmate without any true significance.

The most he gathered was that they were similar, but Lanfen was more sentimental, more… human, in a way. Her genuine concern when asking about his injury, it had taken him a bit off guard, but she nearly panicked when he asked her back, like she had no idea how to respond to mutual concern. For a moment, she seemed to forget the cold persona she wore. And it was just that: a persona. The contradictions in her words and actions, it might be because she was acting, trying to disguise her actual self. A defense mechanism or just simple confusion, he could effectively use both. He would need some way to reassure her he could be honest, that she could trust him, even if only minimally. Otherwise, he wouldn't get very far with her.

An announcement overhead interrupted, urging them to move towards the platform for departure. Lanfen shuffled to the front door, opening it wide enough for the bird to scramble inside, the creature resettling on her shoulder judging the way the fabric of her shirt shifted. While they walked, it snapped at the insects that had found her in the last few minutes. He had a feeling it would attack him if he did something it deemed unacceptable. Crows were such vengeful creatures… Anyone who had wronged a crow in Meteor City could vouch for that. She must have spent a considerable amount of time with crows to capture even that aspect in her Nen. Had she modeled Nemmi after an actual crow? That made her situation rather… sad; if she made an animal with Nen in a desperate bid for companionship, she must have felt very alone.

Soon, they were sat comfortably on the train speeding towards their destination. Or, at least he was comfortable. Lanfen crammed herself into the corner of her seat, as far as possible from him while still next to him. It's not like he would dare touch her, even if he had a reason, with the Nen bird nestled into her lap- he very much liked his fingers intact and attached. The distance thoroughly contradicted her burning gaze in the moments following the scuffle with the Hunters- that wanting look was certainly something she shared with Hisoka.

"Do you have any idea where the Fan Shi are based?" Sybil hadn't been forthcoming with that information, if there had been a permanent location at the time. Under different circumstances lacking punitive curses, he would have had Shal find some leads. He never quite had the chance while in Yorknew.

"Not Anchi," Lanfen not-so-helpfully offered. As expected, she knew less than him. She seemed more inclined to run from the Fan Shi than hunt them down. At some point, he would have her go onto the Hunter site to investigate- although, he expected she would want him to pay her for the service, like Machi, considering her soreness over her stolen cash. "The Bai Ze must have their identities on record. It'd be too cumbersome to constantly work around them, so I think the Fan Shi are in another country. Not that that helps us any."

"Anchi would be a rather safe place to plan uninterrupted."

She shifted, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned away from him. She dismissively agreed, "I guess." Clearly not a fan of the idea despite suggesting it. "Are we waiting for the Spiders there or…" she trailed off, looking to him hopefully. And how he would crush that hope.

Chrollo shook his head, leaning back to stare upwards. "The curse has another condition." He trusted they could function without him, but… This separation made him unfathomably uncomfortable. "I can't contact them."

Silence hung in the air, Lanfen crestfallen at the revelation and Chrollo wanting to change topics.

"Do you miss them?"

The question nearly startled him. "Do I… miss them?" he slowly repeated back to her as realization struck him. He typically had two members accompanying him at all times, and, even when he didn't, it had been years since he had been entirely unable to contact them- and it was for a far shorter stretch of time, by choice rather than force. How many times had he thought of them in the last hour alone? He missed them. Terribly so, he might add. Like his heart was being crushed every time he thought of them- and not due to the Nen chain constricting it. Especially after losing Paku and Uvo; two members in one mission, it was a first, and, if he could help it, a last. He would not allow for another loss. He couldn't.

No wonder he was so welcoming to Lanfen's presence… The emotional guardedness, the lack of conventional social graces, the awkward displays of concern, and the looking to him for guidance, she reminded him of his Spiders.

She somehow misunderstood the extended silence as annoyance, fiddling with her sleeve as she said, "If we're already going to Anchi, there might be something that can help us pick up a trail to where the Fan Shi are. It's ten-year-old information but…" Her voice became timid, eyes fixed on the floor as she mumbled, "Father had been looking for them. There might be some papers in a safe back at the compound. House," she quickly corrected, forcing an edge back into her voice. "Whatever. I know where it is, so we can check if we have nothing else by then."

"Then, for now, our priority will be reaching Anchi." Another temporary solution as they gathered more information; this wasn't something to rush into without some semblance of a plan. Of course, they would eventually need help. Lanfen didn't have the combat experience the Fan Shi did. In a roundabout way, the Troupe would be getting involved at some point somehow. She didn't appear to have allies willing to help her, Hisoka a last resort, Nemmi not quite enough.

He assumed the conversation was over, that Lanfen would return to quietly sulking, but she tilted her head to the side, questions welling in her eyes again. "Are you really serious about this? About getting the item while you're," she looked him over, "you know."

"I thought I should enjoy my vacation."

Her expression went blank. "Y-your vaca-," she sputtered, clapping a hand over her mouth as if she startled herself. Her hand hardly hid bubbly giggles, his answer the funniest thing in the world judging the sudden fit. There were almost tears in her eyes by the time her giggling tapered off; her cheeks were flushed pink with apparent embarrassment at her outburst. When she lifted her hand away, she bit her lower lip to restrain herself. She failed. "Y-you're absol- absolutely insane, aren't you?" she asked in disbelief, giggling a few more times before smiling at him, standoffish attitude momentarily lost to something more genuine. " _This_ is a vacation to you?"

"Is it that odd?"

" _You're_ more than just odd." More than anything, her words sounded like a compliment. She was taken with rarities, with strange creatures, human or otherwise. "And, Chrollo," she said, turning away to hide a lingering smile, "stop calling me Lanfen."

"Would you prefer a nickname?"

"Lan."

"I don't think you can choose your own nickname. You also go by that when you don't trust someone." She made no effort to deny it, so perhaps she hadn't fully trusted Hisoka. And names, names were rather important things to be lying about. She wanted to keep him at a distance, and Chrollo wouldn't be having that. "I could give you a nickname, if being called Lanfen is so irritating," he offered, now just messing with her. "How about _Orchid_? That is one meaning of Lan, isn't it?"

Her eyes went wide, switching languages to say _orchid_ enough for her finally realize they were both speaking in Anchian. It wasn't a language he regularly used since his main conversation partner had been killed a few years ago- another member he wasn't quite over losing-, but he mustn't be entirely out of practice.

Now she chose to sulk, doubling over to hide her face in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. "Just call me Lanfen," she groaned in defeat.

He accepted her silence as the end of the conversation, reaching for his backpack to fetch a book. Her attention shot back to him like she expected his knife to be in her back every time he moved. When she saw it was just a book, she returned to moping. No doubt the bird would be watching him in her place. He offhandedly suggested, "You should sleep." Rest might help her set some of this needless paranoia aside.

"Probably," was her noncommittal response.

* * *

While Lanfen would have _loved_ to pass out for the remainder of the train ride just to be freed from her latest version of purgatory, she felt way too wound up by the whirlwind the last two hours were. Chrollo sitting next to her didn't help her settle down at all. Sure, Nemmi could keep an eye on him as she slept, but she just couldn't force herself to drop her guard _that_ much with him in arm's reach.

It was bad enough she was giggling like a delirious school girl… She sighed into her hands, still hiding her face, because she must have made an ass of herself; a 'vacation' hardly warranted the number of sleepy giggles she let slip out. Her natural laugh, she absolutely hated other people hearing it. Even Hisoka, the master of unnerving people, had questioned her stupid, obnoxious laughter. Chrollo seemed about ready to poke fun at her too, with the way he smiled back at her… All these silly, insignificant insecurities popping up now, she feared she already knew why, and it had everything to do with infatuation.

Why the hell did she feel so comfortable around him? She wished she could pretend to be completely clueless about this too, but she wasn't.

Chrollo already knew her connection to the Paijin, which, in an odd way, was relieving. He had no illusions to what she was, so she didn't need to worry about keeping it a secret. Knuckle and Morel, she had wanted to keep them in the dark so their opinions of her would be controlled by _her_ words and actions, _not by the Paijin and Fanghe_. Hisoka… She didn't know who told him, assumed it was the Troupe, but she had never wanted him to know. His interest was fickle enough without her being outdone by Fanghe's legacy. It might be fine if her reputation died with her, but the Fan Shi and the item still existed to outshine whatever talent Lan might have. Desperately keeping a list of lies and secrets made her more cautious, with few exceptions; Chrollo managed to bypass some of that caution, and her defensiveness sometimes gave her away just as much as openly admitting things.

 _Harmless_ Chrollo played the role of pleasant companion too well, and that, that gave her the opportunity to relax. Hisoka, on the other hand…. Nearly every moment with Hisoka became a life or death matter dressed as a game. He knew exactly how to put her on edge, how to ignite a wrathful or fearful reaction from her, all to keep himself entertained. She had to be on constant guard to keep him from being all over her- in a sexual _or_ homicidal way. Adrenaline and anxiety made it easy to be wary.

Although, perhaps not wary enough…

She felt a bit betrayed by him too, even if it was unjustifiable. Hisoka was right; he had no reason to regret choking her out, let alone apologize to her for it. She knew he would try to kill her eventually. So what if it was a little sooner than she expected? He hurt her, physically and emotionally, but she understood she only had herself to be upset with because she had been the one stupid enough to trust him, to think he would change his mind if they were on friendlier terms. Right? This was ultimately her fault? She should stop blaming him for her idiocy and get over it…

Nemmi squawked in sheer disapproval. His glare screamed, " _It's not your fault he tried to kill you_." At least he was convinced… This time, of all times, she wasn't so sure she could pass off the blame.

Lan leaned back in the seat, restless from her own thoughts. "Are you upset by what Hisoka did?" she asked without thinking. The inappropriateness only hit when Chrollo slowly lowered his book, gaze drifting to meet hers.

"Am I upset that he betrayed us?" he began, voice losing any playfulness it'd had earlier. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his tone darkened. "That he assisted an enemy that then killed two of my friends?" She bit her lip, not knowing about a second death, nor Hisoka's involvement in both. Chrollo was genuinely upset about losing them, too. "All to fight me, which he couldn't even do because of the curse…" Chrollo released her from his intense stare by finally glancing away, slowly blinking as he looked to the roof. "I am," he finished, firmly answering her question.

 _Shit_ might have been the only way to sum up her thoughts; Hisoka had dug his own grave. She thought he had just tried to fight Chrollo, betrayed them by turning on their leader, not that he assisted this other enemy.

"I had no idea he…" She opened and closed her mouth, eyes finding her lap when she failed to find proper words. Words that wouldn't hint at empathy. She hated that she was imposing her own experience, her own emotions, onto his situation. No way their thoughts on this betrayal aligned. "You must really care about them," she ended up whispering to fill the silence. She still couldn't comprehend that Chrollo could care about his group beyond them being a means to an end, that he would call them his friends. So much so that she would rather stubbornly deny it.

His apparent anger didn't bode well. Certainly not for Hisoka, but for her as well. One member was worth the lives of hundreds of mafia lackeys. Hisoka didn't have hundreds of allies to seek revenge against. Chrollo understood it'd be useless to kill her as revenge, right? It's not like Hisoka cared about her. If she died, she died. He might be a touch disappointed over wasted potential, but even that would be fleeting. He had almost killed her himself, and Chrollo had seen the aftermath firsthand.

Then again, she _did_ feel like Chrollo was up to something. That something might be the vengeful plotting of her death. _After_ getting the item, of course, since that was her greatest use in life. She might be traveling with her executioner… But, again, how was this any different from hanging around Hisoka? He declared ownership over her life, promised to be the death of her when he got bored of her. She should treat Chrollo the same, except without foolish physical attraction and childish unrequited feelings baiting her into hurting herself again. These people were not her friends.

"Lanfen," Chrollo unexpectedly began, her attention reluctantly on him again, "you greatly appreciate honesty, don't you?"

Her blank look didn't dissuade him. In fact, he patiently waited for a response, expectant gaze fixing her in place. With him sitting so close… Endless, intense grey eyes framed by dark lashes… Damn he had pretty eyes. She shouldn't have let him sit right next to her; she had enough distractions without him looking the way he did. Nemmi chirped an _I told you so._ "Who doesn't?" she eventually said, bored trying to out-wait him, uncomfortable with his silent attention.

"Then may I suggest something?" He seemed pleased when she raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in listening. "An agreement between us while we travel together. If you ask, I will tell you if I've lied about something I've said. I would have the same privilege with you, of course." Her brows pushed together. What did he gain from something like this? Chrollo saw the alarm bells going off in her head, adding, "I am not suggesting we then explain the truth, but merely acknowledge the lie. A policy of honest dishonesty, if you will."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Have I given you reason to distrust me?" She almost laughed, but, then again, he hadn't necessarily lied to her face. He just didn't tell her anything beyond the bare minimum. He was quite the mystery. "I have been quite honest with my intentions thus far." Loosely speaking, maybe. He made it clear he wanted the item, at least. That he would kill her if necessary.

"Then you're saying this is because I lie to you?" She would keep lying, even under this… policy. Surely, he understood that. So why bother trying? Obviously, he could continue lying as well. Even if he miraculously didn't, he had left a gigantic loophole to abuse. Acknowledging a lie without explaining the truth left plenty of room to hide his intentions while being technically honest. Sort of. So, really, what was the point? Confusing her with contradictions?

"Trusting each other would be to our mutual benefit. I'm sure you understand that." Oh, she did, and it would be lovely if that was possible. He offered his hand like they were businessmen brokering a deal instead of… whatever they were. Criminals? "Think of it as a game, if it makes it easier," he said when her skepticism kept her rooted in place.

"A game, huh?" She mulled it over further, staring at his open hand like a beartrap as she held her arms tighter against herself. Nemmi stood, ready to snip off his fingers. This policy, he meant to accomplish something with it. Something that involved gaining her trust. While she had nothing to lose in simply playing along, games had a habit of escalating. Yet, how did he intend to enforce the rules? He couldn't. She could stop playing any time she wanted with limited consequence because he had no way of preventing her.

"Okay." She pried her arm away from her side, Nemmi, poor rational Nemmi, screeching in protest as she willingly made a mistake to satisfy curiosity. "Honest dishonesty it is," she said, slipping her hand into his, reciprocating the gentle squeeze as they shook on a ludicrous deal. She didn't immediately release him. Instead she tightened her grip marginally. "I'm not your hostage now, after all." Her lip twitched to smile, enjoying that she could rub that fact in his face. The power distance had shifted in her favor. His offer reminded her that she didn't need to tolerate games any more than she wanted. For now.

"We're partners in crime now, aren't we?"

"More like accidental allies," she shot back, dropping his hand, realizing she was enjoying the warmth too much. The handshake had long since moved from being reasonable to awkwardly long, even for a half-hearted threat; Chrollo didn't appear to mind, humoring her. She quirked an eyebrow, ready to test this policy, if only a tiny bit. "Unless it wasn't an accident."

He smiled slightly, pleased to at least pretend to honor their new agreement. He easily admitted, "You weren't exactly subtle while fleeing from Virgil. I decided to come lend you my help."

She couldn't say she was shocked; actually, she found his answer amusing. He very deliberately involved himself in the Fan Shi mess despite being Nen-less. For someone that seemed intelligent, he might just be an idiot.

"You're weird," she said, looking forward to hide a smile, ignoring Nemmi as he had a fit. He knew that statement ended with _and I like it_.


	24. Habit: Laws of Attraction

Lanfen fell back onto the bed, groaning when her number one nag hopped onto her stomach to continue his tirade. She covered her face with her arm, grumbling, "Nemmi, _please_ give it a rest already." Every time he had the chance, he liked to remind her how absolutely _wrong_ this situation was. "I know, okay?" Listening to him whine for four days- four _entire_ days- was about to drive her insane. She couldn't even tell him to shut up most times because Chrollo would hear her talking to her own Nen.

Not that that would make the situation much stranger. Since she began traveling with Chrollo, everything seemed oddly surreal or outright bizarre.

They hadn't run into Virgil and Sybil, Lan finally freed from bug-bastard's tracking and Chrollo acting like an expert on avoiding Sybil- she _really_ wondered the story behind that. There were still a few hiccups, though.

The first came when another strain of mafia scum stumbled across them as they had lunch. (Mealtimes were strange affairs, mainly because they were so uneventful and normal they cycled back to feeling weird). And Chrollo, that man, he stabbed a pen- a fucking _pen_ \- into one mafia lackey's eye, and Lan found herself drooling over him even more then than when he had the fancy blade in hand.

A former blessing, the second issue was the weather. Storms wreaked havoc, all but paralyzing travel. A squall on the east coast prevented airships from leaving for Anchi. That clearly didn't work for them. Between Sybil and Virgil's resources, they couldn't risk staying in one location too long. Chrollo's solution was to -thankfully- avoid airships entirely until they reached the coast. Secondly, he decided that once they left Saherta in a few days, they would take a train to the coast while hoping the weather cleared. Lan agreed, mostly because her travel plans usually went 'get from A to B,' often considering no details beyond buying tickets. His plan had a tiny bit more detail, though improvise remained his go-to.

The shower stopped, the static sound of running water lost to fill the room with silence. Lan shifted again as Nemmi chirped at her some more. Damp hair on her neck and the muffled roar of the hair dryer reminded her that she had needlessly rushed her grooming time again. It's not like Chrollo would interrupt her in the shower; he had manners, well aware of things called personal space and common courtesy.

The strangest moments were times like this. For a few hours a night, they stopped to sleep and bathe. Since Chrollo couldn't sense impending Nen attacks, Lan admittedly became as perceptive as a rock when asleep, and Nemmi wouldn't allow either out of his sight, they collectively decided staying in the same room would prolong their existences. She honestly had no problem sharing a room. It wasn't like one of her beloved romance tropes where two people are forced to share a single bed. Nope. Chrollo's wallet was very accommodating- though, for a bandit with loaded pockets, he oddly didn't spend with complete abandon; just basic comfort from what she'd seen so far.

Also, while out on Morel's floating testament to her misery, dingy of her nightmares, she had bunked with Knuckle and Shoot in a small guest cabin for months. She wasn't unfamiliar with roommates. Did they annoy each other? You bet. Did they make her question the definition of normal? A bit, but not like Chrollo.

Lanfen pinpointed the 'little things' as what drove her to madness, her list of complaints stemming from the oddity of normalcy. Chrollo and her were all but living together- albeit in a different place each night while avoiding glorified mercenaries.

And what did the leader of infamous thieves do to pass the time? Read, mostly. All the money in the world to spend on entertainment, and he preferred books. Not being that great at starting conversations on flippant topics, she ended up reading to keep herself occupied until inspiration struck. That often left them to sit in oddly pleasant silence.

Not that silence oppressively reigned over them. To the contrary, actually.

She mainly played his honest dishonesty game. She perverted it by asking sloughs of yes or no questions to eventually piece together a puzzle of individual facts. Chrollo humored her effort enough to explain one thing in minor detail after continuous pestering: Yorknew. Specifically, the day she spent passed out. From Hisoka dragging her half-corpse to Machi, to this 'chain-user' guy capturing him, to Hisoka appearing at the hostage swap to be met with disappointment, Chrollo gave her plenty of information.

In exchange, she attempted to help explain how Hisoka may have gotten into contact with the chain-user; it's not like the information could be used against Hisoka, given Chrollo already saw a connection between them. In fact, it might help _her_ case if Chrollo saw her as marginally useful outside of finding the damn item. The two Nen-capable boys allied with the chain-user, they had to be Gon and Killua. Not many other Nen-using twelve-year-olds running around Yorknew that also happened to know Hisoka. She told Chrollo that Hisoka had maybe met the chain-user during the Hunter Exam, omitting the boys from her explanation, feigning that she only remembered him mentioning a single interesting toy instead of a group- Gon his unfortunate focus, Killua an afterthought, leaving a Kur-something and a... Loreal as the chain-user. Chrollo appreciated the sentiment behind her attempted helpfulness, in the very least.

Underhanded scheming aside, they could also talk about random junk, surprisingly. He got a kick out of her interrogating him on what animals the leather coat he had in Yorknew was made out of- domestic stock animals he confirmed, significance from its acquisition, _before_ she told him she already knew. He pretty much gave a dissertation on Ben's knives when she asked about his; it'd been interesting, considering she knew next to nothing about antique weaponry. They also had a lengthy, continuing, discussion on the safe topic of music of all things. He had sneaked into more concerts than she ever had. They both found it hilarious that they'd attended some of the same operas and symphonies. (Auntie loved them, okay? So, Lan went along… and there totally wasn't entire albums of the stuff saved on her phone. No, that'd ruin her current image of studded leather and ripped jeans.) They could have crossed paths years ago because of mundane interests. That was just… strange. Like everything about him.

Chrollo… He remained such a mystery. For a ruthless leader, he seemed sort of… nice? He certainly cared for his Spiders. He'd fondly mentioned them in passing a few times. Almost like he missed them. She didn't know what to do with that information, with him.

But, back on topic, do you know how odd it was to have Chrollo's toothbrush on the counter with hers? Now that, that bothered her immensely _because it should bother her more than it did_.

The bathroom door clicked as the knob turned, swinging open a second later. She lazily moved her arm off her face, using it as a pillow instead. Chrollo nonchalantly wandered into the room, towards the desk that became their drop-zone for bags and phone chargers. Anything she wanted to say got lost as she stared. The man decided that shirt buttons had no function this fine morning. Her eyes greedily followed the angle of his jaw to his neck to his collarbones, visually tracing the lines of sculpted muscles on his chest and stomach. Muscles she _definitely_ wanted to feel over. Muscles that he was suddenly flexing.

"You're doing this on purpose," she accused, eyes still glued to exposed skin. Suddenly, the room felt sweltering. She also found herself very confused with Hisoka's life choices. Because why fight Chrollo only to inevitably lose when you could fuck him? Nemmi screeched in her ear with absolute indignation.

"You'll have to be more specific." He looked positively smug as he reached up to tie a bandana over his forehead, adding to the show as he stretched. Her eyes followed defined muscle lower, considering how quickly she could get his pants off if she tried. Her face went red when he paused, noticing her gaze no longer lined up with his face… nor even his chest. His expression went rather blank with thought. Deep red cheeks burned with the knowledge she had creeped _Chrollo_ , someone who'd certainly seen some odd shit in his life, out. Terrible accomplishment. The opposite of seduction. How exactly to _not_ get laid.

Her head jerked the opposite direction, Nemmi saving her from herself. At the cost of a chunk of hair, which Nemmi spitefully dropped on her nose. "You're lying," Lan mumbled, fighting a sneeze as she brushed tickly loose hair away. She sat up when Nemmi threatened to take another snip. Because, honestly, she accused Chrollo of misbehavior while she wore a skin-tight shirt, almost provocatively laying on the bed, staring him down like a piece of meat, after flirting with him for days- or trying, at least. She sucked at subtlety, so maybe flirting wasn't the right word, but this was entirely accidental. Except for his flexing. He shouldn't flirt back, damn it! "You know exactly what I mean."

"I do," he confirmed, half-way done buttoning his shirt when she dared glance back at him- with Nemmi's permission, of course. "I haven't figured out if that look should concern or flatter me." Expression serious, eyes lacking any glimmer of amusement, her embarrassment over trifling matters died with a twinge in her chest.

Another jab at the similarities she shared with Hisoka. Chrollo had been comparing the two of them, though he was fluent in the language of subtlety. Depending on the trait, minute changes in his tone and minor shifts in his expressions- mainly reflected in his eyes, she finally noticed- gave hints to unsaid opinions. He oddly had mixed feelings towards Hisoka… He _had_ considered Hisoka an ally. One that betrayed his precious Spiders. It bothered her that he would think she would do the same to someone, even if, deep down, she knew she might. Because she _was_ like Hisoka, self-interest placed above everything else. In the end, she was also her father's child. Just like Fanghe.

His overall focus, for now, seemed to be on figuring out her personality. But with his subtly prying questions, he made her analyze her actions more than she wanted. He made her doubt herself. She could only see it as an attempt to manipulate her, situation considered.

She narrowed her eyes, watching as he retrieved his knife from his jacket. "What do you even want from me?" Her voice came out cold and accusing even as she wound a strand of freshly cut hair around her finger.

He dropped the sheath to the side, studying the blade. The air felt thick. "The Paijin's item," he finally answered after pulling on his heavy leather jacket, which in no way compared to his Yorknew coat, returning the knife to his pocket.

"And that's it?" she pressed when he grabbed his phone, sensing he planned to wander off somewhere again. By the time she woke up, Chrollo usually had breakfast and a new stack of books waiting. The first morning, he had also reappeared with another car.

"It is."

"But that's a lie?"

"Partially," he admitted before saying nothing more, glancing at his phone.

"Won't tell me your plan even if I know it's a lie," she mumbled, taking out her phone to resume ignoring calls while reading a new article about the anticoagulant in razor-mouth lamprey saliva and its particularly nasty reaction in humans. She would wait for him to finish his errand. He'd be back, that weird game console and his books still on the desk. If things went south, she would just call him, get his location, and send Nemmi after him. She could use some alone time, anyway. It was tiring, being suspicious of his every action, word, and inflection when his charm made it so damn difficult.

"Lanfen." Her eyes unfortunately snapped to him with the authority his voice carried. He paused, making sure he had her full attention. His eyes bore into hers like he could judge her damned soul. "I want you to join the Phantom Troupe."

Her lips soundlessly parted as her brain failed to formulate a response. Because, again, he sounded serious. Perhaps even more so now than when he had offered in Yorknew. "Is… Is that another lie?" she finally forced out after a stretch of uncomfortable silence spent under unyielding eyes. It had to be a lie, or a joke, or a prank, because she in no way compared to them. She venerated them as untouchable deities of terrifying strength. Even right now, without Nen, Chrollo remained a keen predator, waiting fangs cloaked in shadows and hidden behind sweet words. And what was she? A pest, if she was lucky, otherwise completely inconsequential.

"Not at all," he reassured in that voice she so wanted to trust. "It's a serious offer. One that you may consider, as I don't expect an answer this moment." He didn't wait for her to ramble out an unnecessary reply, instead freeing her from his gaze as he walked to the door, his hands in his pockets. Then he glanced over his shoulder. "My knife's poison has almost run dry, so I am going to call my supplier."

She fought back the shock of his seemingly sincere offer to draw her eyebrows together. Wasn't like him to tell her what he was off to do. He typically let her draw conclusions herself. "They're not a Spider?" she asked when he kept looking at her, waiting for something. The approval in his eyes showed she had somehow found the correct answer to an unasked question. And, gaining his approval, something about it was positively addictive. She hated it.

"No. After all, I can't contact them," he confirmed, focus on the ceiling in mock thought. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. He always seemed to. "A shame, considering how helpful they would be against the Fan Shi. In fact, Machi had already expressed interest in assisting." _No._ "She would certainly accept the job, perhaps even gather a few of the others to help." _No. He couldn't be…_ "I will be back in fifteen minutes," he declared, opening the door, leaving her in a state between mortification and panic.

She had Machi's phone number. She didn't have a curse preventing _her_ from inviting the rest of the Troupe to a Fan Shi massacre. Worse, if she had half a damn brain, Chrollo wouldn't have needed to carefully spell it out for her like she was child. What an absolute moron he must think of her as…

But call Machi? Oh, no. How to describe the kunoichi seamstress other than intimidating in presence and skill? Stunning fit astoundingly well, actually. She had no business talking to Machi. Except she did.

Her finger hovered above the needle contact.

Maybe she could text her? Fuck, she would just call back to ask questions, maybe yell at her some. No way out of this… Not when Chrollo already had to risk the curse over her stupidity.

An eternity passed, ringing an ominous soundtrack to the unending nightmare called Lan's social skills.

"Chrollo's with me," Lan blurted out, talking over Machi before she could finish asking 'who's-?' She should have texted her. This was a mistake. Lan panicked even more, quickly saying, "It's Lanfen. He wanted to get the item, so he found me, but now the Fan Shi are sorta after us, and-" And she wanted to smack herself in the face.

"Danchou couldn't wait for the exorcist," Machi said under her breath, thankfully latching onto the mention of Chrollo instead of word vomit. And she even agreed that Chrollo was a bit of an idiot for this. Lan knew she liked Machi for more than her neat Nen threads and pretty face. "Well?"

"Well?" she repeated back dumbly until it hit her. Orders. "Yes. Chrollo wanted you to gather a few others. Enough to take on Sybil and five others," she added, hoping to be helpful. "We don't know where the item or the Fan Shi are, so we were going to go to Anchi in the meantime."

"All right," Machi said much too soon. Then again, Chrollo didn't make concrete plans for a reason. The Troupe was more than capable of figuring things out for themselves while adapting to the situation. Unlike her. "Hey," Machi unexpectedly started, voice losing the tiniest bit of an edge, "if you can, tell him that he won't have to wait much longer."

Did… Did the Troupe miss him too? She supposed having their leader away would be troublesome but… Machi's words didn't seem like duty so much as… as reassurance.

Lan didn't have a chance to ask, the line dead as Machi hung up.

* * *

Chrollo slipped his phone back into his pocket, leaning against the wall as he waited. He absently rubbed a hand over his heart. The chain may not have killed him for this, but it had threatened, tightening the moment he knew Lanfen had caught onto his scheme.

Lanfen… He had been hoping she would figure this out on her own. Instead, she had gotten caught up in taking orders from him, no longer paying attention to what she could do, reverting into this frustrating state of near helplessness. It was one thing to act harmless, this unneeded deference another entirely. She was more than capable of thinking for herself. When she focused, she could be brilliant. A hopeless idiot didn't avoid the Fan Shi for over a decade and then dodge capture by a member for two weeks. An idiot didn't have such a firm grasp on multiple fields of biology.

His hand fell back to his side.

If he could break this habit of hers, she could be useful to the Spider. Ultimately, twisting her to his side was his goal because killing her would accomplish near nothing. Hisoka held no reverence for the fallen, life's value fleeting with his fickleness. While she held his possessive interests now, the moment she died, she became nothing, not even a memory. However, stealing Lanfen, having her under his command, setting her in opposition of Hisoka and then preventing him from taking what he wanted from her- be it her body or potential- that would anger him. Chrollo would allow that fact to adequately fester before killing Hisoka in a way that would undermine his desire for a battle. He would humiliate him for taking from the Spider. And, for a masochist with no regard for his life, for someone without loyalty nor allies, this was one the few forms of retaliation available.

Despite his plans to use her, he hadn't necessarily wanted her to join the Spider as an official member. Truthfully, she would have been more like a pet, something kept for the enjoyment of it, not its usefulness. Now he was reconsidering.

Lanfen, she would mesh well with his Spiders. Cold outwardly, but loyal. When Feitan captured her in Yorknew, before she learned they wanted the item, she never implicated Hisoka beyond what was already abundantly obvious. Even now, with their relationship strained by that rematch-as she called it, her hand absently to her throat, her words a quiet whisper to match her bleak expression- she said nothing to further damn him. She refused to share anything about her aunt and Hunter allies, outright hostile when he innocently asked. For someone that could callously gut and behead mafia henchmen, she cared very deeply about her allies. And that, that was perfectly Spider-like.

She was also, simply, interesting company.

She asked some of the most frivolous things- mostly spouted out after noticeably staring at him. The last had concerned his tattoo and why he covered it with cloth rather than makeup. If he didn't know how, she offered to teach him in return for teaching her how to hotwire vehicles- she liked bargaining, he noticed. Having her control the radio had proven amusing. One moment she would be listening to a classical piece before changing it some of the most obnoxious _things_ he had ever had the displeasure of hearing. A particularly jarring change in stations mid-piece left her stifling giggles because he knew he looked offended. She had almost commandeered a bus to stop and take pictures of a flock of tiny white birds. He had to physically stop her. When he asked about them, she launched into avidly describing the _ghost finches_ ' biology, behavior, migration patterns, and the two weeks she spent banding them- including pictures- in terrifying detail. Not to mention she could identify leathers and furs with little effort, sometimes without even touching them- that mafia tool should _not_ have worn a gharial jacket decorated in teeth that day.

Their scattered interests overlapped enough that they could easily hold conversations on trivial matters, too. Yet, better than that, she didn't need constant chatter to keep from boredom. She also enjoyed reading- though she refused to answer what when he asked.

And, while he could pretend he just found her intellectually entertaining, it would be a lie. Her vying for his attention wasn't easily ignored with her soft full lips parted slightly, with how her tight clothes clung to her body while she stretched out on the bed, desire sparking in her eyes. He had an eye for beauty and an appreciation for oddities. She fell into his definition of both.

Maybe he should have gone with seducing her; it'd certainly have been easier than convincing her to switch loyalties. Sleeping with her would surely irritate possessive Hisoka. Then again, it might just make Hisoka momentarily jealous of her without actually damaging whatever was going on between them- he still honestly had no idea what their relationship had been beyond her being a typical toy for Hisoka to break in battle.

He would stick with his original plan. Although, regardless of that plan, he might sleep with her just because he wanted to.

Fifteen minutes passed before he returned to the room. Lanfen sat cross-legged on the bed, fully dressed, her belongings already packed away like she needed a distraction. The fading flush and fresh embarrassment on her face, he didn't quite understand it. He couldn't think of anything that Machi could have said that would fluster Lanfen.

"My supplier is regrettably too busy for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She caught on quickly this time, eagerly snapping onto the chance to avoid whatever embarrassing thoughts she was having. Did she try to flirt with Machi only for it to go horribly wrong? Her flirting was very heavy-handed for someone embarrassed by even subtle reciprocation. She also seemed to get tongue-tied when speaking with attractive women, if her near-incoherent mumbling to the pretty waitress serving them lunch yesterday was any indication. "Who is it?"

While he could have easily lied, he didn't want her to get sick of their game. It would be counterproductive, reverse the progress he'd made, if she thought he lied about everything all the time. The game had already dealt with some of the hostility she held towards him, while also encouraging her to ask questions to create a dialogue between them. Eventually, she should move towards trusting him. She was at least a more enjoyable companion this way. He'd hate to ruin that.

"Circe." The name made her eyes narrow, his eyes undoubtedly betraying amusement. Calling Circe, he had accomplished two things. One, he really was running low on poison. And two, "The Fan Shi aren't aware of my involvement." He confirmed that rather useful fact.

"You're oddly sure of that."

He hadn't bluntly asked, if that's what that tone meant. If Circe found Sybil's faux pas hilarious, his Nen-less state would be a riot. "She wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease me." No, she certainly wouldn't. Not even if it meant slipping in the fact the Fan Shi knew he was accompanying Lanfen.

"What is she, your childhood bully?"

The joke brought with it multiple memories of his face shoved into the ground, of mouthfuls of dirt, a bony knee in his spine, his arm wrenched behind his back in a tight grip, and laughter. "You could say that." Keep-away had been such a fun game.

Silence.

"Okay," she dragged out after staring at him like she couldn't comprehend him being a child at some point. She almost doubted his childhood as much as the Spiders being his friends. "What sort of poison do you use? I mean, it couldn't hurt to find a substitute."

"Concentrated whale paralyzer snake venom."

She sprung to her feet, caramel eyes positively sparkling. "I have an idea!" she excitedly declared, unfettered enthusiasm in her voice for once. She adored animals with a passion. She should have focused on being a Hunter instead of pursuing Hisoka. He was an abysmal waste of her talents. "There's an aquarium about twelve hours away. The snakes should still be there," she said, fishing out her phone to rapidly type something. "And, if they aren't, there's a few coral dragon eels. Either should work well enough, even against the Fan Shi. Unless they've been bitten a few times and built up some tolerance, but I doubt it."

It was his turn to slightly raise an eyebrow at an unsaid story. Regardless, the suggestion wasn't a poor one. They didn't have much else to do with the dreary weather hanging over the coast. Might as well be productive in the meantime. Her lips twitched into a flickering smile when he nodded once, approving of her idea. Her genuine smiles were small and crooked, somewhat awkwardly pulling full lips into place for the briefest of moments. He liked her smile.

The color suddenly draining from her cheeks, her excitement dying as fear overtook cheer, made him frown. He nearly reached out to support her because she honestly seemed close to toppling over from what might pass as a mild panic attack. Something had gone very wrong.

"I take it our reprieve is over?" he asked, already on his way to the desk to collect his belongings.

* * *

En. A wave of En, edge maybe a dozen meters from them, epicenter further. Seasick aura wrapped around her, constricted her throat like squeezing tentacles, all despite the distance… Lanfen stood temporarily frozen in place, gut churning.

"Sybil," she whispered, almost shaking _because this was a thousand times worse than she remembered_. During the exam, her aura felt wrong, generally bad, but now, now Lan understood that _that_ had been Sybil showing restraint. Even Nemmi quieted with the awful reality check.

"You can sense differences in aura."

She barely heard Chrollo over her heart pounding in her ears. How stupid… She should have told him this already, especially since he had concluded it on his own. She told him everything about Virgil's ability, so why not this? Because it scared her to an irrational degree? Made her seem even weaker? "Just the Fan Shi's," she answered, moving to his side since clearly it was time to get the fuck out of here. If she trusted him to do one thing, it was to find a way to escape. Lan reined back her aura to use Zetsu while she could. "She used En close enough I felt it." Her stomach flipped when he sped up his pace from a hurried walk to a jog broaching a run. Chrollo moving with urgency may as well be an omen burned into a bible by a murder of crows in field of corpses during a full moon. "Their auras feel different," she continued to distract herself from Sybil's aura, which felt like a ship on her chest as she drowned, Zetsu leaving her to feel the brunt of it. "They can sense mine the same way, so whenever I use Nen…" A static hum joined the storm that was Sybil's aura. She pulled at her sleeve as her skin crawled with the horrific combination of stinging bites and freezing slime. "Virgil's around too."

"We are working together, Lanfen," Chrollo gently reminded, taking a sharp turn down a corridor, exit at the end of the hall glowing with morning sun. "Sharing relevant information is rather important to our survival."

A fair point she didn't dare argue against right now. "Nemmi, go-"

"Reconsider," he said to cut off her order. The shortness wasn't because he was winded, either. No, she had managed to annoy him. Nemmi glared at him, but she really did regrettably appreciate his insight. It's not like her brain was currently functioning. "They're aware of Nemmi. Sybil's En tops out at around thirty-five meters."

So, if he suddenly appeared, they will know they are nearby. _Very_ nearby considering Sybil's limited search range. That's what he wanted her to see, what she should have already concluded. Instead, she focused more on her sweating palms, on the lump in her throat and the future promise of dissection upon capture. Nasty habit, throwing away cold analytical strategy for frenzied tunnel vision. Hisoka loved it, but Chrollo wasn't going to tolerate it, let alone enable it.

They stepped outside into chilled air alive with a whiteout, bugs fluttering about like sentient snow. A few landed on her arm, whip-like tail, delicate wings, pale body, thriving in cold weather... "Winter damsels. Usually harmless." They matured late in the year, swarmed to reproduce before dying in the span of a week, and kept from freezing with what was essentially anti-freeze. "Virgil likely has control over them," she muttered, trying not to needlessly list everything she knew about winter damsels, even if just to herself. Nemmi huddled against her, avoiding insects because they had learned about the swarm ability the hard way. She began repeating what she knew about Virgil's ability. "If they're killed en masse, it alerts him, and I'm not sure, but it might function as En as-"

Her head almost struck asphalt as her legs were swept out from under her in a chain reaction accident. Chrollo, with surprising grace, fell down on top of her since her instinctual reaction to him reaching for her happened to be grabbing him by the shirt collar to throw him- and he then tripped her in response. Unfazed by the fall, he kept his hand securely over her mouth. Her sour glare broke to muted horror. Buzzing. Not the static hum of Vigil's Nen, but of wasps just out of sight. She missed the noise under her rambling, failed to notice giant wasps flitting about, her focus solely on Chrollo's back as she blindly followed him. It was her rematch with Hisoka, with her focus on the visuals instead of the deception, in reverse.

Chrollo uncovered her mouth, getting back to his feet while staying hidden, parked vehicles their only cover in the parking lot. She accepted his hand when he held it out to help her up, though she desperately avoided his eyes and the disapproval sure to be infecting them.

They slowly crept around and between vehicles towards the edge of the lot. With the reminder of thought over impulse and distraction, she guessed that Chrollo was picking out a vehicle fast enough to peel out of the lot and escape town before Sybil and Virgil caught them. Driving through the swarm, killing an absurd number of insects, would probably get Virgil's attention- and who knows what the bug-bastard had up his sleeve. Best to get away physically unseen, for now, if nothing else…

A cold wave of snot and her heart skipped a beat. She almost dropped Zetsu as the flag had been risen. En catching Zetsu, she may as well be screaming she was trying to hide. As if on cue, the air gained weight, her chest squeezed by an invisible sea creature ready to drag her to an ocean grave. Sybil's flaring aura defined impending doom. Her stomach lurched, maintaining Zetsu under the crushing power of Sybil's aura nauseating. She desperately tried to hide her panic to report, "Sybil's on her way."

"Send Nemmi, without In, to distract her," Chrollo immediately commanded, fiddling with a door handle before shrugging off his backpack to smash the console into the window.

Nemmi screeched in protest while Lan chewed on her lip. The odds of Nemmi ending up destroyed were so high, but if Sybil reached them… If Virgil joined her… Still, losing Nemmi now… Yet, Chrollo wouldn't suggest something unnecessary, either. Nemmi shuffled before flapping his wings and letting out a caw, reconsidering his earlier indignation. It was a rational suggestion if protecting her life was taken above the risk of Nemmi's destruction, and Nemmi would always take that risk. "Lead her northward. We'll meet back up south of town," she reluctantly ordered. Nemmi took off towards the hope-crushing aura, leaving the safety of In several meters away from them to begin his solo mission.

She quickly got in the car. The faster they got away, the sooner Nemmi could return to her shoulder. The _thwack_ of insects on glass shattered the otherwise oppressive silence. Beneath the dread inducing Fan Shi auras, she could feel the edge of a lecture hanging above her neck.

* * *

Virgil whipped around a corner as he sensed hundreds of his swarm splattering against a windshield, Sybil's Ren flooding the area in clear acquisition of the target. His foot hit sidewalk as tires screamed with acceleration. He stumbled back when the line of dead winter damsels pointed directly at him, car speeding his direction.

In the brief second before the vehicle flew by him entirely, he confirmed his suspicions. Lanfen sat on the passenger side, her surprise ally driving. Dark hair and eyes, pale skin, garishly large earrings, and… Sort of familiar? Virgil stared after the car, knowing he had no way to catch them on foot. The man, he was certain he'd seen him somewhere at some point in his life, maybe in passing or photographs since his brain failed to supply anything resembling name. Whoever he was, he was good. The moment Lanfen had picked him up in Devana, she could suddenly dodge traps she'd fallen into for a week beforehand. She even broke free of Scent Trail with the guy's help. And now, despite the absolutely horrid presence Sybil's aura had, Lanfen's companion kept her from the panicked mistakes Virgil had formerly used as openings.

After a minute of standing at the side of the street, he shoved his glasses back into place before turning on his heel. Damn Sybil had gone the opposite direction of the car; so much for leaving the chase to her. Stabbing metal of fixed strength slicing through his cloud of insects, Lanfen's bird had distracted Sybil from her actual target. Another missed opportunity. Now they would be waiting for another tip to come in to find their suddenly illusive target.

He went to fetch his foolish ally.

As he walked, he waved away the cloud of winter damsels, the insects scattering to go about their fleeting lives. Useful creatures. As it stood, he had little that could deal with the cold. The few flesh wasps he let out were already lethargic from the temperature; another few moments and they would have been fodder for the chimera ants. He hoped a few hundred winter damsels were enough to solve the problem of his temperature-sensitive killers. The ants would be living up to their name with his intervention…

Another minute passed, and the bird's aura disappeared as well. He expected as much, though this certainly proved his theories about the creature. It could use En _and_ In freely. It didn't need Lanfen to give it orders, operating with some degree of independence even over a distance. Truly, she had created something spectacular despite improper instruction. If only Fanghe had been around to teach her; she could have been something amazing instead of just possessing potential squandered on ridiculous abilities. Just like the ability Sybil made on her own after losing Indoor Fish, this bird was ultimately a waste of talent. Fanghe would have come up with something much better. Look at his skillset. It was perfect for him.

Sybil stalked towards him when they met up a few blocks away. She immediately spouted out, "I was following that bird, and, like, it used In on its own without Lanfen anywhere nearby. What sort of ability is that?"

"An effective one, apparently," he muttered, adjusting his glasses again. Acting like he failed to explain what he knew about Lanfen's abilities… She was so difficult to work with; Joan should have just let Circe come with, his issues with Minji aside. Minji, in Virgil's opinion, wasn't very threatening. In fact, physically, she was the weakest of the Fan Shi. Her Nen wasn't much better. If Joan was really worried Paperclips would try something, that it wasn't just him being paranoid, it wouldn't take much to kill her. They could work together against Sybil and Circe if they followed Minji in betrayal. He'd take fighting them over traveling with Sybil any day.

"Shut it," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sybil, that information on Lanfen's allies, that's all you found, correct?" Or, truthfully, all Minji or Circe had found, as he couldn't imagine Sybil using her license for anything useful. Instead she wasted it on her fruitless pursuit of the Phantom Troupe. "If it was, she seems to have found herself a new friend. One that's been helping her avoid us since we met up in Devana."

Her aura flickered with irritation her glare could never match. "Would you stop accusing me of stuff? You, like, didn't share that until now, so you're just as bad." Oh, to the contrary, he had told Joan right away- if only to make up for chasing Lanfen for a week without informing him he had found her. He just kept the info from Miss Blabber-mouth because of Joan's suspicions. He might not think Minji was a problem, but he didn't like being on Joan's bad side. He couldn't hear much of anything, let alone reason, on that side. "And that _was_ all the information I had," she defended, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "New one capable of anything fun?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't think he's even a Nen-user." His glasses slid down his nose as he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his phone. "Just resourceful." Annoying ally of Lanfen's had an unfortunate skillset involving car theft. Lanfen at least had to steal keys or running vehicles.

"That's boring," Sybil said, shifting her weight before standing with a hand on her hip. "I have zero interest in him if he can't use Nen. I guess you'll just have to get rid of him so we can get at Lanfen."

He nodded, ignoring her assigning him a task she deemed too dull, as he held his phone to his ear to report yet another stolen vehicle. Always helped to know what direction they were going, since they seemed to be aimlessly moving about, likely biding time to meet some end.

"You're obnoxious, bug-boy," Sybil commented. If he wasn't on the phone, he might have said the same applied doubly to her.

* * *

Within the next hour, they switched vehicles, and Lanfen was reunited with Nemmi, the bird then settling onto her lap as they sat in abnormal silence. Lanfen typically fiddled with the radio when they weren't speaking. If not the radio, she would play with her phone to pass time. Instead, she stared out the window in a desperate bid to ignore him, nerves making her pick apart the seat cover. She currently existed in a state of anticipation. He might as well address the issue now, if only to offer them both some peace.

"Lanfen," he started, voice level to avoid adding to the conflict. Her fingers stopped pulling at fabric in acknowledgement. "You can't allow yourself to get so distracted."

If he hadn't pulled her behind that vehicle, covered her mouth to cease her nervous rambling, she would have walked right into that swarm of wasps. He might not care if it put his life at risk, since he should be able to get himself out any position Lanfen may get him into, but, if she joined the Troupe, this wouldn't be tolerated. As it stood, her distractedness would get another Spider killed. At this rate, she would get herself killed. He wouldn't even get the item if she kept this up.

"Allowing panic to so distract you, if you don't put effort into controlling it, you will die." This overwhelming panic the Fan Shi caused, he didn't quite understand it. She could handle Hisoka and Feitan's bloodlust. A flash of En or Ren, Sybil's or not, shouldn't have rattled her so much. Even without Virgil or Sybil present before them, without being engaged in combat, her decision-making froze. She had been calmer when sat in front of the entire Troupe- and Hisoka, considering he nearly killed her a few days later, he doubted he had been much of a comforting presence to Lanfen then. Her emotions didn't affect her judgment when facing the Blacklist Hunters, nor when he had spoken with her alone in Yorknew. She could control herself. She needed to, or she would have died a long time ago. Why choose this? "You will get someone else killed," he added, not sure how much her life mattered to her. Her self-destructive actions said it didn't matter at all. "Your friends. Your aunt. If you continue like this, it's bound to happen."

He glanced at her, meeting wide eyes that melted into a defensive glare. She bit back hissing with a clenched jaw, forcing out, "I was just following your lead. It's not my fault the Fan Sh-"

"You're intelligent," he interrupted, displaced blame not what he wanted, "but also incredibly impulsive."

A testament to that perilous impulsiveness was her wandering into their base. So fixated on finding Hisoka, she had failed to notice twelve other powerful Nen-users. It was irredeemably irresponsible _because she could do so much better if she only tried_. When she faced those Hunters, who were by no means weak or entirely stupid, she had been calculating, if mildly irritated, but not afflicted with this same panic. Even while completely outclassed by Feitan, she had been more level-headed. She had annoyed him in fighting back, yet she still came out of it with only minor damage. And Hisoka, Hisoka didn't like boring and weak people. She had his interest for a reason. Panic might amuse him temporarily, but Hisoka would never be satisfied fighting her if it paralyzed her.

"You never hold yourself responsible for your own actions," he continued when she remained silent. This entire conversation would be rather pointless if she refused to listen; he wouldn't bother continuing if she didn't show some recognition of her mistakes. That's what made her frustrating. She wasn't dumb. She just childishly refused to take responsibility for her own actions. "You blame Hisoka, or me, or the Fan Shi, or anyone else, for your own reckless decisions. You do have control over yourself and your actions."

If she didn't take responsibility for anything she would never… Never reflect on her decisions. How ironic for him to be giving her this lecture. Just instead of blaming everyone else, he blamed himself. Perhaps he shouldn't try to advise her considering with how well his recent decisions had turned out.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Pakunoda… Did she really defy the Spider with her actions? As long as the Spider survived, he didn't care if he died, especially if it meant getting rid of the Kurta before the Spider suffered more losses, let alone extinction, at his hands. Paku, the others too, since they allowed her to complete the exchange, they hadn't wanted to lose him just as badly as he didn't want to lose more of them, decorum be damned. It hadn't been a matter of protecting the head at the cost of limbs, of giving him elevated status. Not even a week before they had gone to rescue Uvo from the mafia, so, if anything, they had given him equal treatment, not preference. Yet, did they blame him for what happened? They should. He's their leader. They trusted him to do what was best for the Spider, for them. He failed to do that. His orders ultimately gained the Kurta's wrath, sealing their fate years later. He let Hisoka do nearly anything he wished without consequence. He allowed Uvo to pursue the chain-user unaided. He got captured, the subsequent rescue killing Paku.

He didn't want to think about this right now. He had a distraction- though her issues somehow made him think of his own.

Lanfen chewed on her lower lip, eyes downcast to avoid his gaze. She reminded him of a child being chastised. A scared child at that.

"I understand that you are afraid," he said, voice softer, upsetting her further also counterproductive to his goals, "but if you let that consume you, use it as an excuse, you will become helpless." He had seen fear. He had seen the helplessness that was born of it. Meteor City was filled with the fearful, the helpless, the forgotten, the broken, the dregs of human society thrown aside to die. "Helplessness will only add to your fears. Eventually, it will paralyze you completely." The moment you lost control over your own life was the moment you forfeit it. Those with power make puppets of the broken. The Spider, in part, they started it because they were all sick of being pawns. To the council. To the mafia. They had needed something despite having nothing.

Speechless silence stretched on for a time.

Lanfen at first bristled, but, as he paused, she quietly searched his expression before forgetting whatever irritated her. If she'd been looking for a lie, this was a hilariously honest conversation on his part. He had already decided that if the truth assisted in manipulating her, he'd use it. She also played the part of harmless companion well.

"No one…" she whispered without looking up, pulling at the hem of her shirt, "No one's ever really called me out like this."

Said without anger or sadness, nor even as an excuse, her words almost sounded … thankful. Her self-destructive streak came from being left alone without guidance, then. Reduced to a clue to her sister's legacy, the Paijin likely kept tight control over her. Yet, as long as she was alive, that was all that mattered. Her hostility towards him made complete sense now; he wanted the item and she, formerly, had no choice in the matter. Her family probably treated her the same way. A hostage to an item. A puppet to their will. She came to resent them, but they were still her family. He imagined the first chance she had, she rebelled. And no one stopped her unless it risked her life, or, rather, the item. Impulsive risks were rewarded with attention. Self-destructing, aware she was causing of her own suffering, but she still craved that attention. This was the only way she knew how to gain it.

Never corrected as a child, she carried the habit into adulthood, painfully aware of her downward spiral, but struggling to change. No wonder she seemingly hated being compared to Hisoka. This recklessness was no longer _fun_ for her. They may be similar, eerily so at times, but she had just enough humanity to prevent her from being him. She recognized that, the fact perhaps making her more miserable. Indifference and ignorance were always easier, after all.

He never expected to gain such an intimate look into her personality through what started as criticism. Strange girl. There was also an unexpected sense of catharsis in honesty.

"Chrollo," she hesitantly said, cautious whisper weighted, "do you think people can change?"

He neglected answering right away, as he also didn't expect her to want to continue this conversation. Nor for her to actually look to him for life advice. Did she respect his opinion that much? She did just listen to him dissect her issues -and she listened fairly well for someone so distractible. "I do," he said after a half-second delay. "Through personal choice." Even at a breaking point steeped in crisis, one would need to choose to change, or die in stubborn refusal. Adaptability was often key to survival. Fearing change could become deadly.

Of all things, she scoffed at him. He stared at her, a bit offended because he thought they had been having a touching conversation and he didn't often have such conversations. Then he saw the flicker of a weak smile on her face as she turned away. "How much of that advice do you follow yourself?" She appreciated it. She just didn't like tension and happened to have a terrible sense of humor- perhaps even worse than his.

"Not enough, I'm afraid," he said with bleak amusement. "But, perhaps, I chose wrong."

"Debatable," she shot back, wanting nothing more than to diffuse the situation, get the topic off of her.

"Then why not test it for yourself?"

"Why not test it again _yourself_?"

"Shall we test it together?"

"You really like saying variations of _together_."

He broke the back and forth, quirk of a smile on his lips because she was right. He had grown used to being part of a group, of us over I. He applied the same to her. Purposely or inadvertently, he didn't know, nor really care. He wasn't opposed to including her in together. "Life would be rather lonely without company, Lanfen," he said truthfully.

"I… I suppose," she reluctantly agreed, mumbling, "alone _is_ lonely."

And, before running into each other, they had both been rather alone with their issues. Lanfen had the weight of the Paijin's legacy and her nightmare of the Fan Shi's relentless pursuit. He had been separated from his Spiders after a week of death, revenge, and betrayal. These were their _crises_ to survive, their catalysts to _change_.

Such a pitiable pair they made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say thank you for reading and leaving kudos! Also, thank you again, Heyo, your comment made my entire weekend and then some!


	25. Aquarium: Crossroads

The sun debated rising over the horizon when Lanfen entered her code into the security door of the largest aquarium in Saherta. Technically, she was employed here for a short time. She'd also like to be able to come back. Now seemed like one of the few times to lawfully enter a building, even with Mister Criminal Mastermind at her heels.

Lan set off for the particular tank she wanted in. Nemmi went ahead, Nen body able to cheat around a few locked doors with a bit of swimming to reach the tank access point; he got to locate the snakes while he waited for them to catch up. She tried to not get distracted on the way by the shimmering fish in crystal blue water. The last time that happened, she was here for about twelve hours, taking pictures and simply watching. Might have been longer if Morel didn't drag her out.

The lack of another set of footsteps made her stop. She looked over her shoulder. Chrollo stood with his hands in his pockets, skin bathed in blue-hued light, as his eyes followed passing prism butterflyfish, their scales reflecting a rainbow of colors. His expression, she recognized it. He'd aimed it at her when they first met.

"If you stuff fish into your pockets, you're officially a kleptomaniac in serious need of help," she said, walking to stand beside him. He smiled slightly at the joke, attention still on the fish, their scales dancing with light. "They're prism butterflyfish. Their scales refract light like, you know, prisms. Schools use it to confuse predators."

"They're beautiful."

She shifted her weight, watching the fish swim instead of how colors reflected in his eyes. Leader of the Phantom Troupe, he had a concerning sense of beauty. One that often led to scores of corpses. She'd been avoiding the topic.

"Does the Spider often go after animals?" she asked, voice level with a false sense of indifference. It mattered. A lot. Even if she already knew the answer, understood the hypocrisy in liking him, she wanted to hear it from him.

"The answer will upset you," he said, glancing at her. A large shadow passed over them. "You might decide to feed my corpse to the sharks," he added as a timely shark swam along the glass.

She tried to glare at him, but she knew he understood what she had actually asked. That she knew his answer. His attempt at humor was to lighten the mood after a wordless conversation. He had noticed she didn't like tense silences- though she didn't understand why he would want to diffuse them for her sake. Lan looked back at the less threatening shark. "It was a serious question, Chrollo."

"We're thieves, Lanfen." His tone left behind any playfulness, seriousness darkening the space more than a shadow could ever hope. "We steal what others have already killed with few exceptions."

"Exceptions?" _Damn yourself_. That's what she wanted. She wanted him to tell the truth, even if it damaged the sparkling illusion of perfection he had created for her to admire. It meant more than the honest dishonesty game if he outright admitted it.

"I won't pretend we haven't been hunting," he answered, eyes softening when her hands clenched into tight fists.

Lan chewed on her lip, upset, of course, but not enough. Admitting that should have been enough to enrage her. This very subject had a body count attached to it, so why? Why did his expression quell some of that rage? Because he didn't even attempt to hide an ugly truth? Didn't defend his actions at all? "What about you?"

"I like beautiful, rare, things."

_I condoned it_ , he may as well have said that aloud yet, still, she… If being a hypocrite made her awful, then this made her the worst thing in existence. Fury didn't find her, instead cancelled out by a hollow numbness that sank in heavy air. Did the truth matter that much to her? That even something infuriating lost its edge when so easily admitted to? And for her to believe Chrollo so easily… That, even if for just a moment, she forgot to consider it an act, a lie, did that mean she had already started to trust him?

"Lanfen," he began, and she prayed he offered her a distraction, "you're very attached to animals, yet rather indifferent towards humans."

Not the subject change she wanted. Too introspective. She had enough on her mind already. "They don't deserve it," she half-heartedly snapped, still too overwhelmed with the fact she'd allowed this to happen. Again. Despite all the effort, the suspicion, she'd managed to fail at one simple thing: don't trust him at all.

"I see. You view them as innocent. Magical beasts are occasionally intelligent enough to understand the concept of murder yet commit it. Are they also innocent?"

Her nails dug further into her palm. Why did he do this? She didn't want to think about morality, of why she did what she did, thought what she thought. Oblivion was blissful. But, at the same time, maybe she did need to put some consideration into it instead of running away. What… what he said a few days ago, about her being life-threateningly impulsive and dangerously distractible, for an act, he made her think he cared. Very rarely could someone point out her mistakes without… without her thinking of her father, making her rigidly defensive and adamant to do the opposite. Even Auntie had problems with her blowing off advice; she had almost given up completely during the party-girl phase.

Why did she want to listen to him? Again, she knew why, but wanted to deny it. She had lied to him. One person did call her out like he had, but such a long time ago, over childish issues not liable to end in death. His approach reminded her of her mother's. No accusations. No threats. No overly emotional response. Just a calm explanation of what she had done wrong and what she needed to work on, though he offered no possible solutions. And, oddly, even just that made her feel vaguely better.

That's what made her want to hate him. Underneath the lust, she might actually like him, and she shouldn't. This, whatever _this_ was, would end with the crushing reality it had all been a lie, most likely as revenge towards Hisoka. If his aim was the manipulate her, of course he would act nice. Key word being _act_.

"Do you see yourself as a human or an animal?"

She froze, every muscle tensing, eyes wide. Silence made her answer obvious. Any amount of hesitation was abnormal. She should have spat out human immediately, but…

He took a step, closing the small gap between them to stand beside her. Lan focused on the floor, unable to meet his eyes after giving that away. Her nerves sung when he lifted his hand. Those same nerves betrayed her, quieting, relaxing as he lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. The gesture lasted an eternity compressed into seconds. "I'm the head of the Spider," he said, stepping away, his hand slipping from her shoulder, fading warmth a ghost compared to his touch.

Subtle solidarity, an _I understand because I think the same_ , Chrollo… If this was all to get her to join the Troupe, all clever manipulation to get revenge against Hisoka… If the connection between them was a ploy… She couldn't feign anger because that truth would inflict miserable disappointment instead.

And, with unallowable hopefulness, if this wasn't a lie, she might want more than a night with him. Might feel more than lust for him.

A crossroads, and she had no idea which path held the truth.

For a couple of minutes, she trailed a behind him, collected herself, shoved down the emotions he had managed to dredge up to find rationality. When they got the item, when the Fan Shi were dead and gone, they would part ways. She wouldn't join the Troupe and she would keep herself from becoming a casualty to Hisoka's betrayal. Chrollo would just be a fantasy left to safely rot in 'what-if' land before he tried to kill her. Hisoka _kindly_ taught her a lesson. She shouldn't ignore it. Even if Chrollo acted differently from Hisoka, they were the same. He'd use her and toss her aside just the same. Everything was just an act, because the alternative was too strange to be reality. An interesting reality. One she wanted to be true. Might be true…

That optimism really needed to die before it killed her.

The second she could maintain a neutral expression, she walked around Chrollo to retake the lead. He didn't know where he was going, anyway. This was her domain.

Once through a series of corridors and upon entering an area blocked from the public, they reached the tank access where the whale-paralyzer snakes were kept. Nemmi chirped happily, shuffling at the edge of the tank before pointing into the water. Good. One happened to be near the ladder instead of in the depths elsewhere. That meant less swimming and less swimming was always preferred.

When Lan stood at the tank's edge, Nemmi began glowering, his feathers rising before he let out an obnoxious caw. She sat down on the floor, unlacing her boots. Nemmi continued his noisy fit. "Nemmi, it's fine," she said, knowing he wouldn't settle down otherwise. He knew what she was about to do. He glared at Chrollo, snapping his beak instead of hysterically screeching, just waiting for Chrollo to make one wrong move. An improvement. Barely.

She tried her best to ignore Nemmi's theatrics and Chrollo's stare. This had sounded like a better, less-flustering idea yesterday. The spotlight on her made her think otherwise. Especially as she kicked her boots aside, threw her vest and shirt on the floor, and undid her pants to begin peeling them off- because like hell she would be sitting in sopping wet clothes the rest of the day. While she had no problem stripping down to her underwear in front of Knuckle and Shoot- their faces got hilariously red whenever she did- to swim after an animal or cool down in tropical humidity, Chrollo was another matter. The most skin he got was what a pair of shorts and a tank-top didn't cover. If he wanted more, he would have to ask. She wanted him to. Though she shouldn't oblige. Though she stupidly might. Had she mentioned her very mixed feelings for him?

His absolute silence coaxed her into glancing over her shoulder. She couldn't resist looking for some reaction; it's not like she warned him before suddenly throwing her clothes aside. The disappointment of him looking unbothered bothered her. Until he not-so-innocently raised an eyebrow as if to question why she had paused to look at him. That little quirk of a smirk he gave as her eyes narrowed proved it. He didn't say anything because he knew she wanted him to, and, if she asked, it'd just prove how much she wanted a comment. Sassing her without even speaking… She internally groaned as she turned to face him, but fine. She'd bite the bait.

"Enjoy the show?"

"It's over?"

"Disappointed?"

"Perhaps." His eyes flitted over her in consideration, her heart stopping, heat rising to her skin. When his eyes returned to hers, grey clashing with brown, her heart instead began to pound against her ribcage. He wore a look eerily similar to _I want to steal that_ , one that might simply be _I want that_. "Or, rather, I am," he said, his answer changed, his voice fractionally lower.

Lanfen whipped around to quickly climb into the tank, cold water very welcome for once. He could not just flirt back like this! Of course, that sounded more like an outright invitation to bed.

…

If they'd been in a hotel instead of an aquarium she probably would have snatched that invitation up without another thought.

Nemmi sounded ready to commit murder with that thought. To escape his noise, she searched the water below her for a black-white pattern broken by two small dots of red. Even better, she found a snake with a scar. She dived. When she popped back up, she had a meter-long snake in her hand, Lami wrapping her tail around her arm as she held her head- which felt rude, but she had learned her lesson. Nemmi reluctantly stopped screaming at her, angry aura and animals not a good combination. Especially when the animal in question happened to have a paralyzing bite and a rap sheet.

"You're in such a good mood today," she said to Lami, the small snake just lazily looking for a way down instead of writhing with rage and pain. "That plastic had you all sorts of angry, huh? Feel better now?" Slick scales now had a barely noticeable scar instead of raw and bloody flesh. Lan's hand found the ladder as she commented, "You certainly look better. All healed up and happy, you're such a pretty snake, Lami. You are."

The second she stepped out of the tank she remembered Chrollo existed in the same space. He definitely heard her baby-talking a snake. She ignored him, swiping her makeshift venom collection container off the ground.

The metal _slam_! of the employee door echoed in awkward silence.

"No one's supposed to be here this early," she mumbled, stepping towards Chrollo, leaving a trail of water as she juggled Lami and the container. Lack of skin-crawling aura at least hinted it wasn't Fan Shi for once. "We didn't trigger anything security-wise either." She may or may not have checked the aquarium's security system the last time she was here. You know, just in case someone else tried to break in. The place had rare sea creatures on display and she didn't expect a thief a level below Chrollo's caliber to just ignore that. A security system could at least dissuade them. "Neither did they, though." So maybe an employee just came in early for some reason. She could go talk to them, flash her license, and come up with a reason for being there. She held her arm out, Lami getting a bit more insistent about wanting down. "You can manage this right?"

Chrollo didn't immediately take Lami from her, so Lanfen tore her attention away from the snake. He stared at Lami with a hilarious amount of suspicion. When she offered him Lami again, taking a step closer, he actually took a half-step back. It took every bit of her crap self-control to not burst out laughing- that would startle Lami, after all, as Chrollo could probably use the blow to his enormous ego.

Instead, she ended up grinning, her voice laced with amusement. She didn't get the opportunity to tease him very often. "Do you not like snakes?"

"I prefer them to be at a distance," he said, eyeing Lami, but still infuriatingly calm for someone facing his fears. "Are you sure-"

"I can do it," she said, almost letting a giggle slip. Something about the leader of the Phantom Troupe being afraid of a tiny little snake made her day. And confused her, because that made him seem more human again, but it was mostly just funny. Sort of cute in a weird way, too. She really wondered, now, if she'd still like him this much after sleeping with him. If! If she slept with him.

"Who are you!?" The familiar loud, offended voice made her stomach drop, crushing her joy. She didn't need to look to know who was stomping towards them. A second set of heavy steps disturbed her false sense of calm entirely. Her reaction upset Lami, and she just barely moved the container in time for Lami's fangs to sink into it instead of her arm.

"Keep quiet," she ordered Chrollo as he gawked at the arrivals, witty remark on his tongue. She told them she was fine, that she just needed to know if Lami and Hydi were still at the aquarium or not! And, even if her texts very clearly told them where she would be, she didn't think they would be able to show up in time, damn it. What were they doing? Stalking her?

She whipped around as fast as she could while holding a venomous snake. "Knuckle," she snapped when his aura began to match his enraged, snarling face. "Stop or she'll bite me again!"

His stomping came to an abrupt halt, expression somewhere between incredibly taken aback and absolutely perplexed. Morel stopped next to him. His ridiculous sunglasses and rigidly neutral expression didn't hide his attention drifting from her to Chrollo.

"Lanfen?" Knuckle asked after a long moment of staring. She almost sighed because here it came. "What the hell happened to your hair?" he nearly shouted, pointing a finger at her. "And what are you wearing?"

"Trying something new," she said flatly, not wanting to explain her system of disguises and the patch of in-the-process-of-re-growing hair on her left side. Both were rather long, convoluted explanations. "Why are you here? I said I was fine." She even answered one of their phone calls just to reassure them of that! Sure, she chose to answer Shoot because he was a pushover unable to properly guilt-trip her, but that should have been enough.

"Like we believed that." Knuckle laughed when she rolled her eyes, but uncharacteristic seriousness quickly replaced mirth. "Those Fan Shi people are bad news."

"It sounded like more than you could handle alone," Morel cut in. "Sybil Delphi alone is a thorn in the Association's side." His attention was still on Chrollo, and she prayed he behaved better than Hisoka would in this situation. "Only reason she hasn't been ousted is that Rat," Morel muttered. "If the rest of the Fan Shi are like her, you're going to need some help."

"You… looked up the Paijin, didn't you?" she asked in disbelief. If they found information on the Fan Shi then it's inevitable that they also came across the Paijin. She told Knuckle to look them up as a shorthand explanation, too. The Paijin at their height were some of the worst human traffickers worldwide, the drug trade just a secondary interest. The Fan Shi were a mercenary offshoot from the Paijin that Fanghe used to eliminate her enemies and rivals while marketing them out as paid killers to anyone with deep pockets. That's what her name made her a part of. That's exactly the type of stuff people found reprehensible. What Knuckle and Morel should find reprehensible. She couldn't figure out why they were here, ready to help her. They didn't have a vested interest in the item like her other ally. They seriously couldn't consider her a friend worth dying for, right? They didn't know anything about her. Not really. Because she thought that was for the best.

"Hey," Knuckle began, "you might have come from that, but that isn't who you are now, right? You're a Hunter. A damn good one."

She forced herself to shake her head, answering his question with a lie while in truth dismissing his praise. She might not be carrying on the Paijin's legacy, but she certainly kept her family's immorality alive. She was not a good person. Chrollo Lucilfer standing at her side proved that.

To escape the moment, even if only briefly, she turned back to the tank. Lami restlessly wiggled about, swimming away the second Lanfen released her into the water. She slowly picked up the container's lid, ignoring Knuckle and Morel's stares as she screwed it on. When she handed it to Chrollo, her fingers brushing his in her sudden hurriedness, eyes fell back onto him, suspicion ever-present.

"I'm fine now," she reiterated, trying to pull their attention back to her. Chrollo was being surprisingly good about standing there silent. She wanted to keep it that way. "He's helping me with the Fan Shi." Morel stared at her, sunglasses somehow failing to hide his _I know that's not the whole story_ look. "I also got my license back," she added, hoping to show she was actually completely in control of the situation.

"That's good news," Knuckle said, giving her a thumbs up. "You sounded convinced you'd never see again! How'd you get it back?"

_Crap_. She led herself right into another awkward conversation.

"You can share that another time." Morel's voice promised he wouldn't forget to ask again when there weren't more pressing issues. He turned to Chrollo, studying him, sizing him up, before introducing himself as, "Morel. Lanfen's teacher." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point at Knuckle. "And my other apprentice, Knuckle."

Chrollo shot a sideways glance at her, her mortification at this point probably tangible, her picking at her top's hem not helping to hide her nerves. She did _not_ want them to meet. She liked her Hunter life and her… criminal? life separate. Chrollo already knew too much about her, he didn't need to bridge this gap too.

She thought about whispering to him in Anchian, but that would make it obvious she was feeding him lines. A defeated shake of her head and he easily found his own plan.

"Chrollo," he answered pleasantly, a stunning fake smile on his face- his real smiles were subtler, emotion mostly reflected in his eyes. Even his tone shifted without a hint of it being a front. Oh, his acting was enviable. Yet, she could see through it right now. So, the rest of the time, maybe… "Lanfen's mentioned you in passing a few times. It's a nice to meet you," he continued, Morel and Knuckle still leery. Maybe because she just handed him highly toxic snake venom. Or, maybe it was her choice in men- Hisoka- that sent up red flags. Just then, she noticed she stood well within reach of Chrollo, the distance a lot closer than her preferred personal bubble. Knuckle and Morel had noticed, reading body language not much different from analyzing animal behaviors. They saw how comfortable she was with him. "Though, truthfully, we have the situation under control. My friends and I are regrettably familiar with the Fan Shi. Helping Lanfen has actually been a pleasure for us."

"You're just after the Paijin's item thing!" Knuckle quickly accused. Morel nodded, approving Knuckle's observation- and maybe the threat in his expression, too. "Of course someone without Nen would want it!"

"The item?" Chrollo broke character, actual amusement in his eyes as he glanced at her, though she doubted Knuckle caught it- Morel might have, sunglasses in the way of finding his line-of-sight again. "Is it that important?" He spoke to Lan instead of the other two, sounding offended, if a bit suspicious. An out! He'd given her an excuse, and she noticed in time to play along. She glared at Knuckle, pretending to ignore Chrollo as he complained, "You said it was something quite useless. A family heirloom, nothing more, and certainly mentioned no connection to Nen. Had you lied to me?"

That was enough for Knuckle to, at least, believe Chrollo was being helpful, not holding her hostage for the item. He aimed a silently apologetic look at her for spoiling a lie in a lie. A pang of guilt tried to beat at her because he shouldn't feel bad for their trickery when he was still miraculously trying to help her. The her that was a partial lie. He trusted her too much…

"No matter what it does, it's still mine at the end of this," she said, giving Chrollo no room to make fake demands in their made-up agreement. "Just be happy with getting revenge against them."

What might have passed as an awkward silence in the wake of a kept secret being let loose was definitely Lan fighting a smile at Chrollo's stupidly effective diversion while he tried to act like he didn't find the situation humorous. She wanted to slap him for that, but, at the same time, _his_ sense of amusement, even at her expense, wasn't going to kill her. The moment felt like an inside joke shared between friends. _Friends_.

"Lanfen," Morel said, ending the strange lapse in conversation after looking between them again. He felt something off. About Chrollo, the situation, or maybe both. She had no idea what Knuckle had concluded about her _friend_ Hisoka, but Morel had a better idea, the Hunter Exam a taste of Hisoka's particular crazy. He probably assumed she found herself in a similar tangle with Chrollo. He probably wanted to help her out of her own mess before he ended up with a dead sometimes-student. He was much, much too nice. The type to quickly forgive a former enemy. To forgive her. "I want a word with you."

"I…" She couldn't just brush this aside. He would only be more insistent about helping. "Okay, fine." They walked to the other side of the room, leaving Knuckle and Chrollo without babysitters- Lan dreaded finding out what Chrollo said that caused Knuckle to chuckle before launching into a story. "What?" she said in a heated whisper, pretending to be annoyed with Morel, while more concerned about leaving her travel companion alone with her coworker.

He leaned in conspiratorially, also speaking in a heated whisper. Morel, he left Knuckle as a distraction. No wonder Knuckle was acting so suddenly chummy with her questionable friend. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Her lack of answer made him pinch the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand before he very seriously added, "I've got a bad gut feeling about that guy."

"Chrollo's… Don't worry about him." The classic dismissal made him more concerned. "On a scale of how likely someone is to kill me, he's a lot lower than Hisoka." Admitting the possibility of Chrollo killing her might, oddly, help the situation. It at least showed she recognized the possible danger Morel picked up on- an experienced Hunter's intuition was not something to be overlooked. "I promise that," she vowed, killing any hesitation in her voice as she looked Morel in the eyes. "I tru-" she faltered, catching herself with wide eyes. She had meant to tack on some comforting half-truth for Morel, not terrify herself. The first thing her mind conjured was _that_ landmine. If that happened to be the first reason filed under _reasons Chrollo won't kill me_ … No. No, she didn't. Trust just happened to be on her mind today is all.

"He and his friends can help me with the Fan Shi," she quickly substituted, damage done. Morel saw the oddness in that half-said word. "They're Nen-users. Strong ones, at that. A few have fought the Fan Shi before." _Just please don't ask who they are_.

"Are you sure you don't need our help?" The word _our_ came out stressed. Morel might have rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder if she hadn't reinforced her personal space issues with them. Only them, considering Chrollo had done just that earlier. He had bypassed another boundary nearly unnoticed… She allowed him way too much freedom. Freedom he could use against her like Hisoka had.

"Positive," she lied.

A long pause filled the air as he debated whether to believe her or not. "All right. I'm going to trust your judgement," he leveled, not babying her, allowing her her precious freedom even if it came at a cost, "but if you need anything, _anything_ , you call us. Got that?" A nod satisfied him enough that tense muscles relaxed, though just slightly. "You might be idiots, but you're my idiots." His words came as a slap to the face. Truly, she didn't deserve such inclusion. The lie, Lanfen the Hunter, might, but that wasn't really all of her. Just a disguise. "It wouldn't be right if I just let you get into trouble without trying to help you out of it."

She swallowed down guilt before muttering, "Thank you." _Thank you for caring, even if just for a disguise_. They, too, were an untouchable ideal on the opposite end of the spectrum from Hisoka. They would always be too good. They were the type of Hunter she had looked up to before the exam.

Lan walked away before Morel could come to his senses and demand to help. When she approached Knuckle and Chrollo, she heard the tail end of the story of her getting bit by Lami as she freed the snake from a tangle of plastic- and again when trying to clean Lami's wounds. Knuckle's words tapered off as she wordlessly passed them. She didn't have the energy to complain about an embarrassing story right now. She pulled on her clothes, not bothering to go take off her still wet tank-top and shorts.

Leaving. Running. It was all she wanted to do now.

* * *

"Where did you get that info on Lanfen's allies?" Joan asked as he leaned in the doorway of Minji's craft room from hell. The paperclip amalgamations were only slightly less creepy than the collection of archaic medical tools and a fuck ton more pleasant than the formaldehyde specimen jars. God knows what horrors were in the books lining the shelves.

A flicker of Nen and the paperclip she held straightened like the hairs on the back of his neck. Her aura was only a creep-factor below Sybil's, even if far weaker.

She swiveled her chair to face him fully. "The Hunter site, using Sybil's license," she repeated, bending the metal into a delicate flower. Damn weird watching her make shit like flowers. Almost as weird as her wearing such a cheery yellow dress with flower print. "I regretted missing Lanfen's presence at Heaven's Arena." Like he believed that explanation, no matter how damn calm and flat her voice was. She set her hands in her lap, blindly continuing her art project while one dead grey eye bored into his damn soul. Did he look this creepy? With his right eye pulling closed under the scarring? He fucking hoped not. "Does this have something to do with Virgil and Sybil's delay in capturing Lanfen?"

They both might have faces twisted with scarring, but she was a cold, emotionless bitch to begin with. Virgil might be a lying little shit, but Minji, god, he could never get a read on her. He steered clear of her even back in Meteor City, especially after she crushed a few other kids under a husk of a car- smelled at his place for weeks. Sybil might be crazy, but Circe had to be absolutely insane to be dating this psychopath.

Were all manipulators this weird? Taakya hadn't been at Minji's level, at least. Too bad a Zoldyck bastard got her. Slit her throat open, left her bleeding out like they'd done to Minji. Then the bastard switched off the security in the building to start the massacre for real.

"Yeah," Joan laughed, "apparently she found herself a fucking escape artist."

Minji stared back at him, waiting for further explanation. Not a hint of a reaction beyond mild interest. Virgil said Sybil hadn't called anyone, but Minji could be sneaky. She could have hired this new menace for all he knew. With how suspicious he was of Paperclips and the witches, Minji knew better than to risk contacting blabbermouth. She also suggested Virgil to carry out the capture; could have been a ploy to make him drop his guard. This mystery ally could be her mole.

"Can't describe what Virgil only caught a fucking glimpse of," he lied, braving the room of horrors to walk in and sit on her desk. Virgil said the guy seemed familiar, but Joan couldn't use his vague description to figure out who it was. "Stink-bug's stupid glasses slid down his nose again."

"I offered to correct his eyesight," Minji muttered as she pushed her chair back and turned to face him again. Joan didn't blame Virgil for not getting surgery from Doctor Scalpel-Happy. Adalei said Minji didn't bother using anesthesia on her anymore; he wouldn't want to be awake if Minji decided to play with his organs. Screw that, even if they didn't feel pain.

"This chase is starting to go on a little too long. Virgil's ideas aren't cutting it." He clapped a hand on her shoulder, the metal prosthesis echoing dully in an otherwise silent room- god, he wished she'd play music or something to take the haunted house vibes down a notch. "Got any ideas?" he asked, because, if she _wasn't_ trying to double-cross them to get the item and further tarnish Fanghe's memory or something, he'd admit she was a hell of a lot smarter than him in the planning department.

* * *

Lanfen grabbed his sleeve the second she had her clothes on. With a mumbled goodbye to her friends, she scurried away, pulling Chrollo along behind her. Even as she escaped the two Hunters' sight, she kept a tight hold on his sleeve. They began retracing their earlier path through the aquarium, Lanfen's pace nearing a jog in her bid to leave.

"They have no idea who you are, do they?"

"Of course they do," she responded too quickly, words devoid of emotion, too empty to be the truth.

"That's a lie."

"It's…" she trailed off, pace slowing to a walk. "I usually wear a disguise," she admitted, feeling obligated to answer by rule of their honest dishonestly pact. Or, more truthfully, obligated because he had been honestly answering her questions. Simple give and take, and it was her turn to give.

"You wear many." They stopped walking entirely, the shark from earlier passing over them again as they stood in silence. Her change in behavior, the disguises, her words to the Hunters, he understood why she refused to call her own allies now. "You desire friendship, but you are scared of driving potential friends away by being yourself, aren't you?" She kept a decent portion of her life hidden from them if they only recently learned about the Paijin. An important fact considering how heavily it had scarred her personality. She never shared that _he_ had been the one to steal her license, either. She didn't want them to know she'd been in contact with the Phantom Troupe. She didn't want them involved in this aspect of her life.

Her grip switched from his sleeve to his wrist, her nails biting into his skin even through fabric. The fury on her face, in her eyes, she didn't like this truth. "Shut up!" she snapped, aura momentarily infected with bloodlust, the raw emotion crawling over his skin until she got control of herself. Her hand shook as she restrained herself from breaking his wrist. It'd be so easy without his Nen, she knew that, but she didn't want to injure him. For the fear of consequences or the simple desire to not hurt him, he didn't know. With her, it might honestly be both. "If this is just about joining the Phantom Troupe or some plot against- against…" Underneath the ire, he recognized the fear. She already knew her position, what he had to gain from using her. Why she still dropped her guard with him, played along with this game, he didn't understand that. Perhaps because it was for no rational reason at all.

"Are you pretending to be someone else with me?"

The question silenced her, the rage and the hurt set aside for consideration. A few words were all it took for her to reflect on herself. He wondered how being constantly self-aware felt. Neither of them seemed to know. They tended to avoid it unless spurred by someone else's questions.

Wide, unnerved, scared, eyes became her answer. She ripped herself away from his gaze to stare at the floor, grip on his wrist slackening.

"Chrollo," she began, "do you think you're human?"

He repeated his earlier words of comfort, "I'm the head of the Spider." That was how he defined himself. The Spider took precedence above all else. The Spider was his legacy. His family. His everything. Lanfen also wanted something, someone, because she was very much human, even if she thought otherwise. This longing, did that make him human as well? _Being human_ , he disliked the connotation of it.

"Before that, what were you then?"

"Nothing."

His answer came so quickly, naturally, her lips parted without anything resembling a response. Then she did the unexpected, a single word question taking him off guard.

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeated. Why? Why was he nothing before the Spider? He had been searching for an answer to this question. Her past very much influenced her. Did his past influence him to such a degree? "Why was I nothing?"

A list came to mind. Most of it revolved around Meteor City. A city of outcasts, its residents, according to the outside world, didn't so much as exist. They, as a collective, were viewed as lesser humans. As living trash. Sometimes, simply, as nothing. Yet, no, it went beyond that.

"I suppose it's because we are oddities even by Meteor City's standards," he said, unsure, shoving his hands into his pockets to stare upwards at the fish rather than watch Lanfen's reactions.

After the mafia attempted to cleanse Meteor City, after the Council so severely failed to prevent the massacre, after it ended in a forced truce, they felt alone in their rage, in their mourning. What little they had had been stolen, leaving them without family or direction. "A sense of isolation?" The Phantom Troupe, its members, they were pariahs amongst outcasts. If the residents of Meteor City were less than humans, then, by extension, the Troupe, they weren't human at all. Yet that was still _we_ not _I_.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I don't like talking about my motives. Explaining others' actions is much easier than explaining my own." Except for hers. Because, while different, they were similar enough. She reminded him of himself. Her emotions may manifest differently, but her motives, at their core, were similar enough he could almost understand himself. "What of you, Lanfen? What do you consider yourself?" Not human. She had already confirmed that. But did she feel she belonged to anything? Had an identity of her own? "A Paijin? A Hunter? Or nothing at all?"

She bit her lip, focus on the ground, as she thought. "I suppose I'm nothing," she whispered in defeated acceptance, her fingers slipping from his wrist.

It would have been the perfect moment to further his plan. To promise her that the Spider would offer her an escape from isolation, that they were what she wanted, needed, to whittle away at her resistance, to manipulate her, but, instead…

As she lowered her hand to her side, he reached out, his hand taking hers, gently, reassuringly.

Instead he tried to comfort her.


	26. Stark Reality: Catalyst

Thunder sounded over her music, her attention wandering from words on her phone. The train's motion, the dark clouds gathering overhead, and her semi-boredom of sitting in place threatened to put her to bed. Trains were boring, especially when confined on one for over twenty-four hours. Next, they would be on a long airship ride over an empty ocean. At least _that_ would be from this century. This ancient train could rival the decaying transport in rural Anchi. Only good thing about it was it offered some privacy, she supposed.

Lanfen glanced at Chrollo, seeing if he could provide her with some easy entertainment. As statuesque as ever, hand under his chin, his gaze was out the window and on the intensifying storm. The storm system formerly preventing them from reaching Anchi had finally moved inland; by the time they reached the coast, give or take a day, the weather would be cleared enough for airship travel. His two books sat abandoned on the seat next to him. He seemed adequately bored, so maybe they could entertain each other.

She pulled an earphone out, drawing his attention. "Why don't you save books onto your phone?" He insisted on physical copies, even if that limited how many he could drag along with him. "I mean, not everything you read is an ancient tome." The exasperated look when he had admitted the book Sybil had when Lanfen had taken the exam had been his target, that Sybil had stolen it first, it'd made her smile. Which, interestingly, made him give a small smile in return.

The aquarium, whatever the hell happened, it had changed their dynamic again. Seeing him search for an explanation only to admit he didn't have one, for him to waste an opportunity to manipulate her with pretty words to instead hold her hand, silently comfort her, that hadn't been a lie. No matter how many times she thought about it, she couldn't convince herself it was a lie, or an act, or even some bizarre prank. She trusted it was just an odd moment of understanding shared between two strange people doubting their own humanity.

"I like the tangible aspects," he answered, accepting a distraction from complete boredom. "The smell of ink and paper. The feel of turning pages." A poetic Chrollo answer. "Also, Meteor City wouldn't be very accommodating for that. Shal, despite his efforts to improve it, still complains about the spotty connectivity and sluggish download speed. Electricity itself is a precious commodity."

The conversation found a dead end, Lanfen falling quiet. Chrollo, she tended to forget he literally grew up in a trash pile. He always presented himself as refined in appearance and manner, after all. She wanted to ask what it was like, living there. She wanted to know more about him in general, really. About the Troupe he so adored, too.

The Phantom Troupe… Machi said she had gathered a few of the others, though she neglected mentioning who specifically. She probably didn't expect her to know any of them by name. They were heading to Anchi in a few days, too, staying in Kou-Ang until someone found the Fan Shi's base. Shalnark seemed to be their technology nerd considering what Chrollo had mentioned of him. Machi said he had been searching the net for leads but, because they were also busy searching this Greed Island game for an exorcist, he hadn't found anything solid yet. The exorcist came first, and, truthfully, she couldn't blame them for prioritizing Chrollo. He was their friend as much as their leader.

"Lanfen." He had her immediate attention. For some reason, she didn't hate him saying her name, her entire first name, anymore. Such a nice voice. Always so calm, she wanted to hear it break. With pleasure, or even with anger, or anything more than controlled emotion. "May I borrow your phone to read?"

"I'm listening to music," she asserted, though she clicked through the settings, disabling text and call notifications. If Machi happened to text while he had it… She didn't want that. A few weeks ago and without threatening consequences, she wouldn't have cared. That had changed. She liked him enough to want him alive. She also happened to need a nap, sexual, if a bit violent, thoughts considered.

"Perhaps we could compromise." He shifted, draping his arm across the back of his seat. "Come sit with me?" he asked oh-so-innocently while his eyes said otherwise.

"Sit with you and share, huh?" She raised an eyebrow. The seat _could_ fit two people. If necessary. With the sacrifice of personal space. They would be _very_ close. She knew that. He knew that. Yet, he was still inviting her next to him, suspect arm over the back of the seat… Nemmi screeched, shuffling beside her as he sensed curiosity rather than revulsion. "You going to poke around my phone again?" she jokingly asked, still deciding.

"Just your reading library."

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smile behind her hair as she stood to comply with an odd request. He could poke through her phone if he wanted; whatever he found couldn't actually harm her. A dozen downloaded romance novels, she didn't care if he saw them. He already knew she was embarrassing. She was much more interested in calling a possible bluff.

Nemmi glowered as he settled down in his new nest made from their belongings, keeping a watchful eye on Chrollo from her former seat. Lan carefully sat down next to Chrollo, heat creeping across her skin. He never moved his arm from the back of the seat, and, even though he didn't rest it over her shoulders… Only a fractional distance apart, their legs almost touching…

Lan dared to glance at him. Neither of them broke eye contact. In one ear she heard the blare of her music, the other her pounding heart. She parted her lips to say something, witty or flirty remark refusing to form. Instead of grabbing her phone while she stared, stared at the way muted light reflected in grey eyes, at the curve of his lips with a subdued smile, his fingers gently brushed over her cheek. Coherent thought hazed over, hyper-analysis of why or what-if disappearing as he leaned forward, as the hand cupping her cheek urged her to meet him halfway.

His lips pressed to hers softly. She let her eyes flutter closed, moved her mouth against his. Somehow a quiet moan slipped past her lips as he tilted her chin more, as his hand went to the back of her head to hold her closer and deepen the kiss. She dropped her phone to reach for him, fingertips ghosting over his chest before she sneaked her arms over his shoulders, pulled herself closer, played with his soft hair. A contented hum and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, held her as they kissed.

Chrollo's lips left hers much too soon, oxygen be damned. For a moment, his forehead rested against hers, dark eyes beautiful, conflicted. He slowly pulled away. Her hands lingered on his shoulders before she reluctantly released him, her arms at her side, missing the warmth, the affection.

Why stop at that? She didn't understand. If he was bored, wasn't this a worthwhile distraction? Stopping after a single, rather blissful kiss…

She wanted more of him. Even if she rationally knew here and now wouldn't be ideal, that making out would make her want him more, she still wanted more because… Because his kiss felt so… Contradictory. Soft. Gentle. Warm. All from the lips of the devil. From someone often ruthless and cold. Stirring passion but not anxiety, she wanted a reason why.

Aching silence broke with a chorus of rolling thunder, of rain pelting the window. Another song started playing in her earphone, a reminder. Lanfen snapped out of her transfixed stare, eyes escaping the breathtaking abyss she allowed herself to be pulled into. Chrollo looked away at the same time, her movement snapping him out of his own thoughts. They stared forward, seemingly equally lost with what was supposed to follow.

Lanfen eventually tugged at her earphones to find her phone, to make a decision for both of them. Moving her hand gained his attention. He stared at her phone as she offered it to him, as she listened to music with no intention of moving. A silent wish to go back. To pretend it didn't happen if it had been a mistake, a lie gone too far. To ignore how she felt about it whether it was a lie or, terrifyingly, not.

He refused that wish. After accepting her phone, he slid his arm onto the back of the seat, gauging her reaction. She hesitated. He would let her reject the contact, escape the situation, so long as she didn't reject reality until she found a way to blame him entirely. The kiss wasn't forced on her. It was very much a shared act they were both responsible for.

Lanfen decided to play in fantasy land instead of reality.

She leaned forward enough for him to slip his arm behind her, for him rest it on her shoulders while bringing her closer to his side. _He_ could pretend she had accepted what happened. Being held felt nice. She'd hide in the oblivion of affection for a little longer before returning to reality to decide how big of a mistake she had once again made by believing a liar.

* * *

She somehow distracted him in her sleep, pulling his attention from her phone. (She had an eclectic collection, like he thought she would, ranging from sappy romances to adventure fantasies to historical fiction to scientific journals, with most things between.)

Lanfen had nodded off ten minutes ago, her head now slipping to rest on his shoulder as she unknowingly cuddled up to him. Chrollo shifted his arm, his fingers brushing her shoulder before he rested his hand on her arm to keep her from falling over completely. With his other hand, he carefully moved away a lock of hair tickling her nose. She was the type to stay awake until she collapsed in utter exhaustion. Best to not wake her.

Ripping fabric on the seat across from him, Nemmi warned him to stop pestering her. At some point, it had been a real crow, this a Nen rendition Lanfen had created from memories to deny its presumed demise. He could find no other reason for its distinct personality, for its near complete independence from her conscious mind, nor for the way they interacted (bickered). A needlessly complex ability just to recreate a dead bird, Nemmi must have meant the world to her. Even if just a subconscious extension of herself now, she trusted her memory of the bird to protect her from harm.

And Nemmi was positive Chrollo meant her harm. _She_ thought he meant her harm.

That would have been correct a few days ago, but Chrollo suddenly found himself debating what he actually wanted with her. How he chose to manipulate her, with honest dishonesty and honest truth, had backfired on him. He had given himself a reason to get to know her personally. The few people he bothered getting to know like this, they were all a part of the Spider. The few people he was regularly honest with were Spiders. He may have prematurely started placing Lanfen into that same category.

Why did he kiss her? It had been an impulsive act to give in to, no matter if he had entertained the idea a few times beforehand. But, still, the answer was simple.

This had escalated beyond duty and physical attraction.

Her company, her contradictory nature, he enjoyed them. Odd yet normal. Inhuman but human. Kind yet cruel. He could see a faint reflection of himself in her, and that fascinated him. She was entirely wasted on someone that'd kill her for a momentary battle high. With more experience and some guidance, she could be deadly, but, right now, she would already be an exceptional partner. Spider. Both. He _wanted_ both. But could he have her as both?

It might not be hyperbolic to say he was married to his work. The Spider came first. Always. Regardless of harm to himself. He had never bothered with taking lovers, emotionally investing in a relationship outside of the Spider unnecessary and, at worst, potentially harmful to the Spider. At most, he slept with people he found momentarily interesting before moving on as the fascination faded- just as he did with his stolen treasures. Before this curse, he never had a reason to make friends outside of the Spider. They were all he needed. Both would be complicated, likely to somehow interfere with the Spider. By his own logic and decree, the Spider came first, Lanfen be damned, the enjoyment he got from her also be damned. The Spider should be all he needed. He should be content with them alone, so why was he so fixated on finding a way to include her in his _together_?

He didn't want to think about this.

So, he wouldn't. He would simply allow fate to go to work as he enjoyed his vacation. After all, agonizing over something with a number of outcomes wouldn't do him any good. Not at this stage.

Instead, to distract himself, he returned to reading, unknowingly holding her closer.

More incessant tearing twenty minutes later, a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, Chrollo turned his attention away from Lanfen's phone. Nemmi had picked open his bag to expose the corner of the game console. The bird's reaction, the renewed focus on the console, made Chrollo tense.

This… This was an incredibly unpleasant surprise. Potentially catastrophic, actually.

A blinding light and it was already too late to shove Lanfen away.

* * *

In a flash of light and a rush of Nen, the scenery warped, sending Hisoka wherever Chrollo had stashed the console. He stood in a confined space. Moving relatively fast, the rattling floor sent vibrations through his feet, up his legs. A train.

He cast his eyes down. His smile faltered. Appalling. No, _revolting_.

Lan. _His_ Lan… Chrollo sat with his arm around her shoulders, with her head resting against his chest as she comfortably slept, blissfully oblivious. The sight of them together… His forced grin became anything but amicable.

Tearing fabric. A shift in the air. He spun around, fingers latching onto the invisible creature prepared to tear him apart. He held on, Nen over his hand to protect him from sharpened aura as the bird flailed. Her Nen was as potent as ever, even while passed out in someone else's arms. It took every ounce of his self-control to not crush the bird entirely, to not let his bloodlust surge. Accidentally killing Chrollo over Lan would be a gigantic waste. But almost tempting, currently.

He sat down across from them, bird still struggling in his hand. Lan began to stir, undoubtedly sensing traces of anger-tinged bloodlust and the distress of her pet.

Chrollo struck an already raw nerve, calmly taking out Lan's earphone, pushing her phone into her hand while whispering her name to finish waking her. His stomach twisted at how comfortable they were together. Lan would have never fallen asleep with him next to her. What had Chrollo done to her to make her so docile?

Hisoka leaned forward.

Lan's eyes fluttered open. Pure terror, she sucked in a sharp breath, shrinking into Chrollo's side for protection as her fingers gripped his shirt. A second passed, and she shoved Chrollo away as well. She crammed herself into the corner of the seat to get as physically far away from them as she could in the small space. While she reacted with fear towards him, the hurt expression she aimed at Chrollo… Of course. His naïve little fledgling needed to stop trusting people. He thought he had already taught her that. Ungrateful girl would get herself killed if she kept doing this…

Hisoka clenched his jaw. She never slept with him, but she chose to fuck Chrollo the second he's gone for a few weeks? Oh, no, this probably wasn't Lan's doing. Not entirely. Chrollo had instigated this- and he really couldn't fault her for taking the opportunity. Had she at least considered that their little fling was just petty revenge? Her hurt expression said otherwise. Foolish girl couldn't be left on her own it seemed.

"Let go of Nemmi," she commanded, the anger in her voice, in caramel eyes… Much better. This was his Lan.

Hisoka stood once more, cheerfully declaring, "Gladly." He released the bird from his grip.

Before the two had the sense to react, he spun around to plop on the seat between them- or really, on them- his arms over their shoulders. The edge of a card pressed into Chrollo's throat. A sideways glance at Lan, like he was silently ordering her to do something… A drop of blood ran down his neck when Hisoka pressed just a bit too hard- _so_ disappointingly satisfying. Lan's adorable glare at the superficial wound annoyed him. The anger sparking in her abnormally controlled aura irritated him. Regardless, Hisoka smiled at her. They all knew he wouldn't actually kill Chrollo. Making them uncomfortable was his equally petty revenge. Just his way of telling Chrollo he knew _exactly_ what he was up to with his fledgling, even if she didn't.

"Dramatic bastard," Lan growled under her breath, nails digging into the flesh of his wrist with enough bite to leave marks. He loved it. She threw his arm off of her as she stood, willingly moving to the other seat without further convincing. Good girl.

Hisoka released Chrollo to follow after her. He caught her by the upper arm, tugging her into him. A shove to his chest as he dropped her arm to reach for her face and a half-step back, she turned her body, drew back her arm-

Blood dripped down his chin.

A second passed as he tried to process it. Lan, his darling Lan, had punched him. Punched him hard enough that he now looked to the side. Without adding aura to her fist, even. His tongue caught blood as he ran it over his split lip, humming, fighting another wave of bloodlust- or maybe just lust. Oh, Lan, he had forgotten how much he adored her. How much he wanted her. Yet, if she wouldn't allow him to kiss her in front of Chrollo, he doubted she'd let him fuck her in front of him. He'd settle, then. For her.

She lowered her arm, glare burning even as she nervously bit her lip. Her knuckles bled, sliced open from his teeth. Despite that look, the injury, she allowed him to pull her into his lap as he sat down. Misbehaved girl knew she could only get away with so much. She leaned away as he rested his chin on her shoulder, shifted as he wrapped his arms around her waist to cage her against his chest. Chrollo's indifference egged Hisoka on. Lan could see _exactly_ how much Chrollo cared about her.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, grabbing his hand, forcing it away from her chest.

"Chrollo enlisted my help in finding an exorcist in Greed Island." A grin cracked the blood drying to his mouth. "Did he neglect mentioning that little fact?" he teasingly whispered, lips brushing her ear, his eyes on Chrollo as he disrupted whatever he had in store for his fledgling.

"He did." So cold, her icy glare aimed at Chrollo, she understood now. This moment crushed whatever foolish fantasies she had about Chrollo. He figured she wasn't vindictive enough to run to Chrollo over their squabble in Yorknew. No, she was too sweet, too petty and prideful, to do that. Silly girl just got caught up in the pretty lies Chrollo spun. He was charming, Hisoka would admit. He would forgive her if she begged. Chrollo, not so much. He'd savor their fight even more now.

"Were you bored of searching?" Chrollo asked, flawlessly ignoring Lan. Hisoka hummed, catching an undertone in the question. "You're a day early."

"Am I?" He must have been dying of boredom to show up somewhere _early_. Greed Island might also, simply, be in a different time zone. No wonder he caught them like this. Chrollo had probably planned to meet him in secret so he could continue seducing Lan. Hisoka was by no means a fool. He pulled Lan flush against his chest. He bet Chrollo had wanted to dangle Lan just out of his reach, perhaps attempt to use her as bait to a trap if he posed too much of a threat to the Troupe; fighting him personally would be giving him what he wanted, after all. Chrollo had to be upset about Yorknew, about his beloved Spiders' deaths. "Silly me, I must have lost count of the days." He smiled brightly as Lan squirmed to pull away, not pleased to have a boner pressed into her backside- he just couldn't help it after she so boldly punched him.

"There is an exorcist in the game… somewhere." Some drama about some boring 'Bomber.' Hisoka couldn't be bothered to care. It didn't sound interesting. "He can't hide from us forever," he hinted. The Bomber couldn't be the only one wiping out players. Feitan and Phinks, in the very least, were around, searching, considering the body count. Chrollo could fill in the blanks. "Now," he began, sliding his hand up Lan's body again, "whatever is my little fledgling doing-"

He bit back a cough, cut off by an elbow under the ribs. Touching her breasts remained a steadfast boundary. It was a wonder she didn't…

"Do that again and I use Arri." Ah, yes, that. A few months ago, and he'd be bleeding for groping her. Her self-control had improved, because it certainly wasn't an increase in her tolerance for mishandling.

"I wouldn't tempt me, darling." The rough treatment _really_ turned him on.

"Since you were _conveniently_ absent," she began, words a knife aimed at Chrollo, "Chrollo's been helping me with the Fan Shi. They've been more persistent about getting the item the last few weeks."

"You could be helpful against them," Chrollo added. He knew Hisoka would involve himself anyway. For the first time since pulling her into his lap, Chrollo glanced at Lan. He simply said, "Lanfen." A pause followed with tense eye contact between them. He already had Lan trained to figure out wordless commands. That last phone call that he had hung up on, she had been asking for his help, hadn't she? Chrollo must have immediately went after her.

Lan shifted to grab her phone from her pocket. She fiddled with it, typing a moment before shoving it in his face. His eyes almost had to cross to read, _"Machi and other spiders are helping. Meet them in Kou-Ang, Anchi. Still locating Fan Shi base for attack."_

"I see," he said, eyes narrowing as his smile widened.

Strategically, to obtain the Paijin's item, his appearance worked in Chrollo's favor. Lan had somehow managed to contact the Spiders, but he doubted she could coordinate them alone, that incredibly irritating curse in Chrollo's way of directing her. Also, Chrollo couldn't fight. Lan was what the Fan Shi wanted. It made sense for them to hide, Lan his last-hope bodyguard while the Troupe directly confronted the Fan Shi. If Hisoka joined up with them, Chrollo would be able to issue orders through him, no need to rely on unobservant Lan.

"I wouldn't want someone else killing you before I can," he purred into Lan's ear, nail tracing her jaw, while his eyes locked with Chrollo's. He couldn't have someone else breaking his favorite toys. No, that wouldn't work for him at all. As infuriating as the two being together was, it would hopefully keep them both alive long enough for Hisoka to tear them apart in every meaning of the phrase. He'd already spoiled the illusion, Lan now aware of Chrollo's deceit. Chrollo could suffer the consequences of that.

Lan could be such a bitter little thing when it came to lies, after all.

* * *

The details of an unfortunately updated plan were hashed out as much as possible between a gathering of liars restricted by curses.

Lanfen didn't want Hisoka's help.

She batted his hand away again, wanting to rip the damn thing off, but knowing his self-control had already been tested. Acting like he owned every aspect of her life down to who she may or may not be fucking, his jealousy at an understood misunderstanding enraged her. Hisoka might be the only person she was moderately close to that she wanted to hurt. She wasn't over Yorknew. She didn't want him laughing at her pathetic struggle with the Fan Shi, with past demons like Fanghe. She certainly didn't need him taunting her over stupidly falling for Chrollo. Again, she no longer wanted his help.

Forget the maelstrom Chrollo's motives stirred. A step below devastated might be an understatement. No, her heart seemed to plummet into an abyss as Hisoka brutally murdered her fantasy once more. She already knew that Chrollo had been aiming to use her in a warped bid to trigger Hisoka's possessiveness. Hisoka's reaction just confirmed that suspicion, his instincts not clouded by schoolgirl daydreams. What shocked her was that Chrollo was working with Hisoka, that he knew Hisoka wouldn't be around to answer her calls for help. He might have admitted that their meeting hadn't been entirely coincidental, supplied a half-truth why, but he had manipulated the situation more than she had first believed. It made his motive for revenge seem even more important than gaining the item, that accomplishing that took such precedence that he would be willing to do whatever it took.

Like that kiss. Did… did it mean anything? Or was it just more manipulation? Every moment they shared to this point, the connection she thought they had, had that been an act too? She didn't want to believe it was, but that might just mean he did a fantastic job of playing her for a fool.

"I haven't seen my darling fledgling in a while." Hisoka pouted, Lan tensing because she already knew what he wanted. "Mind leaving us alone?" A pointed nail directed attention to the door, emphasizing the 'request.' He had no problem manhandling Chrollo; he could force him out if he wanted.

Chrollo acknowledged her presence, no longer dutifully ignoring her. Sure, she understood that if he had any reaction to her position, visibly reacting would have only made Hisoka's behavior worse, but she… That entire conversation she felt like a child being criticized, no one defending her, while she sat in the same room listening. Except worse because Hisoka insisted on feeling her up to show she belonged to him. The look Chrollo gave her now was almost pitying. She didn't need his faked pity.

Lan looked to the side, sharply saying, "Just leave." As much as she didn't want to be confined in a small room with Hisoka, he was distractingly jealous and horny. She could use the opportunity to see what he knew of Chrollo's schemes. Because, once again, she wasn't sure who would kill her first.

Before Chrollo could enter the small hall connecting the other sections and cabins of the old train together, Nemmi moved beyond incessant squawking. Greed Island clattered to the floor as Nemmi's foot caught the strap of the backpack it was in. Books followed, her bag joining the pile. His feathers rose as he prepared to rip Hisoka apart.

"The bird as well," Hisoka amended, sugar-sweet tone a clear threat. If Nemmi attacked him, he would destroy him. He had no problem crushing things in the way of his pleasures.

Lan bit her lip. Nemmi glared at her; he wanted to stay regardless of the possibility of dispersal. They couldn't risk that. Not now. She would have to sit in place for a week, and she didn't want to find out if God Complex worked or not the hard way. The Fan Shi would inevitably track her down in that time. She also doubted she could get away from both Hisoka and Chrollo long enough to reform Nemmi without interruption. If Nemmi wanted to help her face the Fan Shi, then he absolutely couldn't try to defend her from Hisoka.

"Go with Chrollo," she reluctantly ordered.

With equal reluctance and a screech in Hisoka's direction, Nemmi flew the short distance from the seat to Chrollo's shoulder. Where he then sunk his talons in just enough to be uncomfortable but not tear fabric or draw blood. Chrollo looked to his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at the invisible bird assaulting him _again_. It was a good thing he found Nemmi's theatrics more amusing than annoying. A flicker of a smile tried to cross her face, dead with the reminder of his betrayal.

"Bye, bye," Hisoka sung, a showy flick of his fingers slamming the door closed in front of the two. Had she ever mentioned hating his ability? She took a quick look with Gyo around the room, at her entire body. He had had plenty of time to stick that crap all over her to-

Her head hit the seat, the ceiling briefly in view before venomous yellow eyes filled her vision. He pinned her beneath him, body flush against hers, reasserting how disturbingly horny he was after being punched. Hisoka's mouth covered hers to move against tightly closed lips. Lan desperately tried to not react. An eternal second finally passed, and he stopped, pouting in a disgustingly childish way considering the circumstances.

"Fledgling," he whined into her ear, breath uncomfortably hot, "don't ignore me. I just helped you, the least you could do is act grateful." Her fingers knotted in his hair as she wrenched an arm free. "That's more-" A rough pull failed to get his face away from hers. He grabbed her wrist, hold tight, tone darkening as he said, "You don't listen to my generous warnings very well, darling. Chrollo's mine. _You're_ mine."

She tugged at her wrist, his fingers squeezing harder, nails digging into unprotected skin. It took all of her self-control to stifle her aura, to hide absolute fury and revulsion. She couldn't make a scene on a train filled with bored passengers; the attack would immediately be on the internet for Virgil's convenience. That, and a fight would only entice Hisoka more.

A power struggle. Every single time, every damn interaction between them, somehow turned into them vying for dominance. She hated it. She hated that he made game out of everything.

"Hisoka," she complained, matching his whiny tone out of spite, thinking.

He didn't let her continue stalling. Instead, he tried kissing her again, clearly set on proving she was his. She bit his lip after a few moments of playing along. Blood tainted the kiss, his split lip reopening to stain their mouths. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth, the mixed metallic tang and candy sweetness nauseating. He moaned happily while she wanted to gag. She jerked at his hair again, breaking apart their mouths, exchanging the unpleasant taste of blood for makeup as she ran her tongue along his jaw to his neck.

Teeth in skin, the wildly sexual sound he made as she bit into his neck made her flush. The same dialogue from their fight came out in quiet murmurs. While praying he didn't actually come, she worked her other arm out from under him. The second he tried to kiss her, or, worse, bite her back, she pulled his head away by his hair before covering his mouth with a hand to drive the point home.

"Let me on top," she sputtered as she felt his smile widen, saw the desirous haze in gold eyes. She wanted no part in what he just thought of. Nope.

His eyes positively sparkled at her words. He pushed himself off of her, sitting up as she scurried to get away to at least the other seat if not out of the train entirely. He grabbed her wrist, tugged her with enough force to throw off her balance and get her to sit back down next to him.

"Oh, Lan, I fell for this trick once before." His nails poked into her chin as he redirected her attention back to him. She glared. Playing along with his advances to get him to do something had been a one-time trick. Why did he have to be smart? Of course, the only time he seemed to completely lose his mind was while fighting; fooling around just didn't thrill him the way battle did.

Instead of asking him what he thought Chrollo had planned, her anger broke through the second his hands were back to memorizing the curves of her damn body. "What do you want from me?" she asked, voice level, tone anything but pleasant.

"You." He smiled happily, poking her between her tightly knitted brows before chuckling under his breath. Some of that over-the-top cheer faded as he explained, "Of course, you still have potential, but, right now, I want sex. It seems like a fun diversion while waiting for you to ripen to perfection, don't you agree?"

"You tried to kill me." Neither of those 'goals' aligned with choking her out in Yorknew. The bloodlust in his aura, the look on his face, he had meant to kill her, done everything just short of it. The fact he didn't finish her off remained a miracle.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose I considered it." He took one of her hands, held it to his throat, coaxed her fingers to squeeze. "Want to choke me?" Her hand shook as she contemplated accepting the offer to let out some of her rage. But she couldn't. Because he wanted her to. In no way would that make them even. She had been absolutely terrified as he not only threatened to kill her, but as he dredged up memories of suffocating smoke and fire. She had begged while crying, and his grip had only tightened. He showed absolutely no guilt, nor even a hint of regret, for what he did. "Or do you want an apology?"

She ripped her hand away, hissing, "I don't want more empty words, I-"

"Then is it Chrollo?"

Despite her best interests, she lashed out. Her knuckles slammed into his cheekbone, bruising them both, smudging the star painted on his cheek. "No," she snapped, ready to hit him again despite blood oozing from reopened cuts on her knuckles. "The issue's always you, bastard!"

He hummed as he felt over his cheek, as he wiped away drying blood from his split lip. "Then I am honestly a bit lost, Lan. Out of everyone I've met, you're the one that perhaps understands me the best." He reached out as she froze, his thumb tracing over her lips before he trailed his nails down her neck. "You knew from the beginning that I plan to kill you once your potential peaks." He smiled before dropping his hand from her throat. "So, why is it you're so upset? Did you naively think you could change my mind by befriending me?" The teasing tone, he trivialized what had been a life-altering, yet incredibly stupid, decision. "I assure you that _you_ ," he stressed, bopping a finger playfully on her nose,"are the issue in that case." She couldn't respond because she agreed. It was her fault for trusting him when he went out of his way to break her trust again and again. "I see. You are upset with yourself for wanting more than reality would ever offer. Blaming me won't resolve _your_ issues, darling."

"Hisoka," she weakly tried to argue, words trailing off into oblivion because he was right. While he was far from blameless, she had to take some responsibility for this chaotic disaster of a relationship. She did know, from the very beginning, that he wouldn't magically change because she liked him. This was who he was. He didn't want to change.

"You're childish in that regard. You never find yourself at fault."

"You're the same," she mumbled, hating the comparison, the similarity.

"I am, aren't I? We _are_ terribly similar, fledgling."

That was the terrifying truth. Hisoka had been an ideal that she had latched onto in hopes of copying. She had adored his attention because he was strong, he belonged to himself alone, pursued his selfish desires unhindered. He would never be betrayed, never be something treated as expendable or as a trophy, never be controlled.

The empty pit in her stomach, the carving out of her heart, when thinking about living the way Hisoka did… He would always be alone. He didn't have friends. He barely had allies. Just toys. Toys and targets that he would inevitably toss aside or kill.

"I hate you," she whispered, defeated. She hid her face by resting her forehead on his shoulder, sought hollow comfort from him as realization violently beat her over the head.

"You feel that strongly for me?"

"Shut up."

She didn't want to be alone.

She couldn't shed that last part of herself that cared, that wanted friends that understood her, found her important for more than just a vaguely described item. She wanted people to care about her, love her, regardless of past ghosts and personality quirks. People that wouldn't toss her aside after using her. She craved a bond like that with more than just Auntie, because... Because, eventually, she would die and leave Lan all alone too. Even if the prospect of being known was wholly terrifying, emotional intimacy, she wanted it.

The odds of Hisoka ever providing that were near zero. In fact, he seemed more interested in crushing that aspect of her for entertainment.

Her life, she didn't like what it was becoming. She had wanted to escape the problems of her past. Instead, _she_ had worsened them tenfold. Not her father or Fanghe or the Fan Shi, she did this to herself. She pursued Hisoka after the exam. She kept him a part of her life. She kept saying one more time, one more chance, one more rematch, in an unending circle that dragged her further into the chaos Hisoka weaved. If she didn't do something, she would die. Be it at Hisoka's hands or through the strife he created, she would die. And she, aware of the oncoming disaster, will have invited death with open arms if she remained indecisive. Her control would dwindle to nothingness.

What she needed was change. To survive and adapt to a crisis of her own creation, she desperately needed to change. Something. _Anything_. Stubborn refusal would surely mean death.

This moment. This moment was the catalyst.


	27. Calamity: Mourning

Lan sat up, done moping and ready to deal with the situation Chrollo rudely invited onto the train. Instead of allowing her to leave peacefully, Hisoka decided he wasn't done pestering her. A hand on her hip to pull her towards him, his other under her chin as he leaned forward, she glared at him.

"Stop it already," she said sourly, hand pushing his face back again. Apparently, it was the only thing that semi-worked. It reminded her of pinching a crocodile's mouth closed so it couldn't bite; now she just needed some damn tape to keep it closed. "I'm in no mood for you." He killed the mood three months ago. Right now, the clown may as well be a fly in her face.

"Darling," he complained, voice muffled before he freed her chin to pull her hand away. "You've already got me so excited," he continued, voice lowering, seductive tone unsettling. Gold burned with wicked passion. His lips curved with equal wickedness. His hand wandered from her hip, nails picking at the waistband and button of her pants suggestively. "I can help you get in the mood."

Noticeable disgust scrunched her nose, pulled at her lips. No way in hell were those claws ever going anywhere near inside her. Fed up, she grabbed his hand, tossed it to the side as she stood. He refused to release her wrist, his expression losing that infuriatingly fake grin for frustration. That scared her heart to her throat, made her realize she didn't know if he would take no for an answer. Arri flashed to life, creeped down her arm as she pulled at her wrist with growing fear.

Hisoka let go. Lan stumbled a step as he mockingly said, "Such a sweet girl, giving me a chance to get away unscathed. I could have broken your arm if I wanted." His tone changed completely, the air chilling with his plummeting mood. "I am terribly disappointed in you, fledgling. Allowing Chrollo to deceive you so easily, you're lucky you're worth more to us alive. For now."

She chewed on her lip as she reached for the door handle. The door stuck fast.

"Come now," he chided, revealing pink aura on the door, "I thought you liked the truth. Let's talk."

"Shut-!"

An ear-piercing wail made her skin crawl, her chest compressed by an intangible ocean's depths. Her legs shook before collapsing from under her. She sat on the floor, wrapped her quaking arms around herself in a poor attempt to simply breathe. The room became a metal cage. She wanted to scream, or cry, or run. Instead, she froze, her control breaking until she had a layer of aura to protect her against the onslaught. Otherwise, she would hyperventilate.

"Oh, my," Hisoka said, giddy, sparkling eyes looking towards the source even if a wall blocked his view.

Somewhere near the front. Were they on the damn train? Or just arrive? Regardless, Arri, her aura, gave away their position. Fuck Hisoka. Fuck Chrollo. If they didn't rile her up, put her so incredibly on edge, the Fan Shi wouldn't have noticed her, and just… Shit. That _thing_ Chrollo described as Sybil's conjure, it operated by a countdown. She needed to stop panicking. Now. This wasn't a rational response. She could handle toxic aura. She dealt with Hisoka. She stood in front of the Phantom Troupe. The Fan Shi were at the same level or below, so she had no rational reason to panic.

Too bad words were cheap, all the reminders in the world not going to keep the walls from closing in on her.

"Who is this?" At her failure to answer, Hisoka released his Bungee Gum on the door before hauling her to her feet. A hand on her shoulder, he shook her a few times to no response. "Lan?" A flick between the eyes snapped her out of the initial shock. Hisoka stared at her, lips pressed into a thin line.

Before she could force out a rambling explanation laced with poorly suppressed terror, the door flew open, Chrollo, with Nemmi, stepping in to crowd the space. Nemmi immediately found her shoulder, a snap at Hisoka's hand convincing him to drop it. Nemmi's quiet clicks then tried to reassure her.

"Lanfen," Chrollo said, focus solely on her, his voice calm, soothing, "I know this is difficult, but use Zetsu." He even switched to Anchian in hopes of comforting her, if just slightly. He knew Sybil's aura made her panic. He might not understand why, but he acted like he cared. That made her chest tight, painful in the only way she could feel. "I have a plan. They won't take you." Determination and resolve reflected in his eyes, his words were a promise.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, tried to even her breathing. If she trusted one thing right now, it was that he wanted to keep her in his possession. Listening to him would at least keep her from the Fan Shi. She nodded once. She began working on restraining her aura despite the freezing slime hanging in the air to drown her.

Chrollo then did what he did best: calmly take charge. His voice lost that reassuring tone instantly, exchanged it for cold precision. "Nemmi, tear a hole through the wall." Nemmi looked to her for confirmation, a weak motion of her hand sending him through the window before tearing at metal. Chrollo quickly collected their things from the ground. He offered her bag to her, eyes softening again. He wanted to say something. Probably an excuse to cover up his blatant manipulation of the situation. She took her stuff wordlessly; she'd make her panic into anger and deflect it at him. Her narrowed eyes sent him looking back to the distracted magician. "Hisoka, use Bungee Gum to keep us from injury on our way out."

Hisoka didn't acknowledge the order, instead grinning madly. He had his arms wrapped around himself for a completely different reason than her. He struggled to restrain excitement and bloodlust. "Who does this delightful aura belong to?" he asked, eyes hazed over as he day-dreamed of violence and bloodshed.

"Sybil Delphi. You're welcome to fight her." The shortness in the answer, inviting Hisoka to fight what usually took multiple Spiders to subdue, Chrollo may as well have told Hisoka to get killed. It was his version of snippiness.

Once the side of the train was peeled open by Nemmi repeatedly bashing into it, Hisoka swept his arms towards the exit to direct them out, strands of pink aura suddenly tangling them together. They'd use his ability to slow their momentum after jumping out… somehow. She was, unfortunately, the one least familiar with his ability. His smile hinted that this wouldn't be pleasant, but still survivable for Nen-less Chrollo and Zetsu-bound Lan.

Chrollo offered her his hand. She stared, holding her arms tighter around herself in clear refusal. She'd sooner jump out by herself, unassisted by any Nen, than touch either of them right now. His expression shifted as he dropped his hand to his side, averted his eyes. He… He looked like a kicked puppy. Like he was genuinely saddened by her acting cold towards him again, recent progress destroyed by Hisoka's untimely appearance. The situation certainly made _her_ feel dejected…

She stepped towards the exit, a blinding flash of lightning and bullet rain pelting her face forcing her to blink. What Chrollo was doing, it was… It was just acting. All of it. A case of guilty until proven innocent. And proving his innocence relied on her trusting him, so she should just consider him guilty without giving him an opportunity to convince her otherwise. Because it would be another lie. Because she couldn't trust him either. She'd learned her lesson, right?

Why did that hurt so much?

Chrollo stood beside her, Hisoka a step behind them, hands glowing with ropes of Nen. The grin on his face, the way gold lit with the flashes of lightning, he was having too much fun. A flick of his finger, another string of aura attaching to a tree alongside the tracks, and-

Wind whipped wet hair into her eyes, everything a blur as they hurtled towards the ground with bone-breaking speed. The damn Bungee Gum contracted so they were touching, the necessity of it questionable. The shove out hadn't been necessary. A harsh tug jerked them to the side. Another pulled them the opposite direction, killing their momentum. They dropped to the ground as Hisoka released his aura. On Lan and Chrollo. His ability stuck his feet to the steep hill despite the slick mud. As Hisoka took his theatric bow, hair escaping gel as rain quickly wrecked his styling, Lan fell into Chrollo while trying to keep her balance. Tripping over him, clinging to the back of his jacket, she accidentally shoved him face-first into the mud. He deserved it, but she didn't keep him pinned there long. She bit back an inappropriate giggle, nerves ruining her self-control, as he pushed himself out of the mud, a flicker of lightning letting her see him indignantly wiping his face on his sleeve.

Another flash destroyed the moment. Inhuman screams shook the air more than thunder, the gargantuan creature crushing the front of the train as it ripped it from the tracks. Four blank eyes and white, bone-plated skin reflected another lightning strike. Wet tentacles writhed beneath the sea monster from a sailor's hell. Four or five minutes, and _this_ was what Sybil was capable of producing.

The only thing currently worse than the undulating waves of the creature's aura over the distance was the bloodlust radiating from Hisoka. He licked his lips, another monster from the depths of nightmares. He began wandering away, gleeful eyes fixed on his new toy.

"Don't get yourselves killed," he called to them, sing-song warning nearly lost in the downpour.

Between lightning flashes, in near complete darkness, Lan lost sight of white clothes and bright hair. She honestly wondered how he would fight that _thing_ on his own. Interfering with his fight, though, that would be truly unforgivable in his eyes. He'd rather be torn apart and die than have a fight ruined.

Without a word, Chrollo and Lan began trudging through mud in the opposite direction of the train wreck, searching for cover amid the trees. The peace broke after a few long minutes. Bug bites and buzzing, Virgil's aura flared to life nearby as he came out of Zetsu. He began his own hunt while Sybil was indisposed.

"Nemmi, go with Chrollo."

Nemmi aimed a glare at her, snapping his beak as he ignored the order. He shuffled on her shoulder in nervous complaint. He adamantly refused to leave her again.

"You're a beacon in the dark," she mumbled, trying to convince her own Nen away. One look with Gyo and Nemmi would glow in the surrounding darkness. Even while in In, the rain as it pelted him left a clearly visible outline of his body. When it came to spoiling his location, heavy rain was worse than the air displaced by his wings. "The rain, his insects won't be able to fly," she added, hopeful. It would just be Virgil and his terrestrial insects versus her and Arri. She had the advantage. She might be able to redeem herself against him, in the very least.

A soft glow in the dark, Chrollo looked at his phone. "There's a highway twenty kilometers northward," he reported, returning his phone to his pocket. His clothes were completely soaked through already. It wouldn't be a pleasant hike. Suspicious that he didn't try arguing with her. Maybe because a knife fight with a Nen-user in the dark on slippery terrain would leave him horribly disadvantaged; he was smart enough to know an unwinnable battle when he saw one. Or, alternatively, he had another idea he didn't feel like sharing. She bet on the latter.

She held out her arm, Nemmi reluctantly shuffling back to Chrollo to poke talons into his shoulder, threatening to slice fabric and skin this time. "Stop that," she warned. If he kept it up, Chrollo would be painfully bruised, if not littered with lacerations. At most, she wanted to punch him in his pretty face. Not remove an arm. Chrollo's eyes locked with hers, unreadable, at that kindness. The look might have been returned concern for her well-being. She tore her eyes away, spinning around to face one of her other nightmares. "Keep out of trouble." _Or it's my head._

Hisoka, he would kill her if Chrollo ended up dead. Because his jealousy, it stemmed from obsession, not fondness. Chrollo tried to take what he claimed as his. If Lan accidentally did the same, if she took his fight, his kill, then Hisoka wouldn't spare her. She was a cheap novelty toy. Chrollo was a rare collectible. Again, she understood where she fell in Hisoka's list of priorities. She should at least try to acknowledge her position.

Chrollo and Nemmi disappeared into the night as Virgil continued his approach.

Lan flared her aura, coming out of Zetsu a relief as Sybil rampaged in the distance. She didn't want to give Virgil a reason to use En, for him to notice Nemmi's absence. Best he be on guard for an attack that would never come. A lightning strike in the distance, his silhouette came into view. She tensed, focusing on him. In the very least, she could get rid of Virgil while Hisoka kept Sybil distracted. The part of her that so admired him figured he could find a way to kill the witch, his tricks and intelligence enough to outweigh brute strength- which he also had a lot of. Nemmi would keep Chrollo safe-ish. No reason for her to be distracted.

Except fear. And she needed to smother that fear.

Virgil stepped forward, another flash overhead. A reflection shot towards her, aim low. A stinger lashed out as the skipping stone turned into a bizarre insect. She spun on her heel as it redirected, mud squelching as it tried to swallow her foot. A kick sent the bug flying back at Virgil.

Again, she didn't know what it was. Small, maybe fifteen centimeters with the tail. Shaped like a beetle with the stinger of a scorpion and mandibles like an… Her eyes widened. A chimera ant. Virgil still had them. Relieving in a hollow way, she supposed. He'd been feeding the queen specific insects to pass on the traits to a hybrid. Parts. She was looking for parts now. A water bug and sun-gazer scorpion. Did it retain its toxins? Probably.

He tapped it with his foot as it struggled to flip back to its feet. "You like my creation?" he yelled over the rain and thunder. "It's about all I can use right now." He gestured to the sky with a touch of exasperation.

Without more needless commentary, the chimera ant charged her. Minuscule and fast, it was hard to keep track of in near darkness. The second she coated Arri on her foot to stomp the thing out of existence was the moment Virgil lunged for her. His fist grazed her arm as she threw herself to the side to flip away. Her hands struck slick mud. She called Arri over her body as Virgil and the ant rushed her. A harsh push and a hand slid out from under her, sent her into the mud instead of the air. She quickly picked herself up, glowing aura a brilliant beacon.

She whipped around, foot catching the underside of the ant. It fell to pieces as Arri slashed it open. But, even in parts, its head kept moving, mandibles snapping wildly. A side step around a lazy swing from Virgil, Lan stomped on the twitching tail. The ant's mandibles latched onto her thigh, tore past fabric to draw blood. She ripped it off, crushed it in her fingers.

"Good call," Virgil congratulated, stepping back to reevaluate. He wiped the insect's blue 'blood' on his shirt. "I'd been aiming to grab the stinger." His nonchalance, the hardly inconvenienced expression, he either had more usable ants or another plan. He leaned back, thumb hooked into his pants pocket. "Where did your companion get off to? He's been at your side since Devana, right? For someone without Nen, he's been a pain." The last part was delivered with actual annoyance. She realized that if Sybil had known it was Chrollo, she wouldn't be fighting Hisoka right now. No, she would be tearing the entire place asunder. Chrollo seemed to believe so, anyway. "Though I'm glad that Hisoka went after Sybil. I hate to admit it, but that clown, I'd have little chance against him."

"How do you know about Hisoka?" The same way they knew about Knuckle and the sanctuary, presumably: the Hunter site. She narrowed her eyes further, her aura able to swirl with unrestrained bloodlust in Chrollo's absence. They shouldn't have gone after Knuckle and the animals.

Virgil pushed his glasses up, swiped off droplets of rain. "Minji found out after seeing you at Heaven's Arena." A flicker in her aura, she knew that moment would come back to haunt her eventually. "You don't seem surprised that one of us saw you there. Minji _had_ seen you. In fact, you saw her as well, didn't you?"

She neglected answering what was a rhetorical question. Virgil had already guessed that to be the truth considering the underlying severity in his tone. It took her off guard, though. Why would Minji not mention that they physically saw each other at Heaven's Arena? She… she _was_ their leader, wasn't she? Dissent would explain the disorganized nature of the pursuit; Chrollo thought as much. It would also explain the sluggish response.

But this was a fight, not a conversation.

Lan cut the chatter, hand brushing by Virgil. He stumbled away from a direct hit, aura saving him from a lost arm. Mud hindered him as much as her, their reaction time and dodges sloppy. Arri would be her solution, then. If she tripped Virgil-

An explosion shook the air. Screams were muted beneath twisting metal and flames. A massive flare crawled into the sky, briefly brighter than lightning before settling near the ground, hissing at the rain as it drowned. Sybil had thrown the train. Presumably at Hisoka. Without any regard to the people running away in terror. No way would the Association brush off this attack, the bystanders left dead. What was she thinking? Hisoka was annoying, but the overkill… Now _that_ was a temper tantrum.

"That clown must already be on Sybil's nerves," Virgil commented, last flames reflected in his glasses. He was thoroughly distracted, but so was she.

"It's his specialty." Her flat joke made Virgil's brows draw together. She took it back. She _knew_ , without an inkling of doubt, that Hisoka could, _would_ , kill Sybil. If he could manipulate Lan's emotions in battle, someone as volatile as Sybil stood no chance. Virgil appeared to realize that at the same time as her.

The pause died like the flames.

* * *

Hisoka walked through the sea of bodies fleeing the abomination lording over the half-overturned train. He craned his neck to see more than writhing tentacles and armored skin. Pastel green hair and a wicked smile, the woman on the creature's shoulder, Sybil, he had met her before. Where and when didn't matter. Her strength was the only defining trait committed to memory.

Quite obviously a conjurer. Approximately half her power went to the creature, leaving the rest for her use. And, right now, that use was creating palpable bloodlust that fed his own, made his skin crawl with delightful anticipation, turned him on like Lan's loving punches. He'd never taken something this large; it may provide a challenge, given Sybil knew how to use it. The way the monster moved as it stripped roofs from train cars like cans, searching for little Lan, it's torso was stiff and slow, arms marginally faster, the dozen or so tentacles faster yet. Again, potentially fun. _Just_ potentially.

As he fanned out several cards in his hand, hid his annoyance behind them, he wondered why this woman had frightened Lan so badly. The last time she had been horrified enough for her entire body to quake, for her pupils to become pin-point dots, he had his hand around her throat. Surely, Sybil's aura alone didn't compare to the terror of him playing dutiful judge and merciless executioner, his hand crushing her airway.

A flicker of lightning, the plummeting return to darkness under storm-covered night, cards whistled through air. The next flash of light, gold met hazel. Sybil tossed away a handful of cards, warped grin distorting beauty. Her aura swelled with an excitement that paralleled his own: a manic need for destruction, for testing strength, for pushing limits beyond their breaking points.

"You!" she screamed, pointing at him, her eyes enflamed with a recognizable passion. "From the exam!"

"Ah, that's right. The examiner," he purred, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. The one that had returned his enthusiasm for battle. The one that had an unfortunate issue with _his_ thieving devil. "I do believe you promised me a fight," he said, voice dripping with anticipation.

A tentacle slammed into the ground, Hisoka jumping back, cards in hand. Another lashed out; he vaulted off it, into the air. Again, a swing and a miss. Playing cards fluttered to the ground as a different tentacle swatted them aside. "Good," he whispered under his breath. That would have been too easy. Too disappointing. Her eagerness might cause sloppiness. An easy win wouldn't satisfy him. It wouldn't even begin to quench his bloodlust after catching Chrollo toying with his idiotic Lan.

He wanted to utterly destroy something right now.

Two tentacles slammed down on either side of him, caging him in as a third followed. He held up an arm. The force made his feet sink into the ground, made the muscles in his arm and legs strain under the crushing weight. Hairline fractures heated his forearm. Stronger than he thought. The creature wailed, pressed harder, suction-cups adhering to his arm to trap him. Movement on both sides, tentacles closing in to constrict and asphyxiate. Glinting eyes, grin stretching his mouth, reopening his split lip again, he raised his other arm, pointed.

The tentacle hit the ground, caused a small tremor as muddied earth sprayed into the air. Sybil's face broke with delight as he landed a short distance away, patches of skin leaking blood from tearing away from the monster's grasp. He held up his hands, aura spread between them in example.

"Bungee Gum," he began, eyes narrowing in pleasure as her attention stayed on the strand between his fingers. Not very cautious for a conjurer, she was failing his personality test. And surprises, he liked surprises. Although, this one might be disappointing in the end. The thrill of a trick left in plain sight was in the possibility of being caught, after all.

"Apocalypse Countdown," Sybil said, interrupting the rest of his explanation. The creature screamed into the night, tentacles rising into the air, a wall of impromptu spears forming overhead.

He flung his arm to the side. A clawed hand raked through the ground where he once stood. Half the tentacles pierced the soil in the same moment. Sybil cackled, watching as he dodged ill-timed swings, as he vaulted off parts of the creature, oblivious in her joy as his aura's presence gradually faded, as he tapered away from using more Bungee Gum to simply avoid hits.

Hisoka vaulted off a tentacle, flipped, twisted in the air to connect Bungee Gum to the creature's torso as he dropped In. He landed effortlessly on slick ground, fingers wrapping around his rope of aura before he gave a testing pull. A shame it failed to budge more than a meter. How theatrical it would have been to fling this gargantuan beast over his head, into the ground.

Her aura still shifted, sparked with irritation and offence. "Don't mock me," she screamed, her creature in turn screeching, baring rows of sharpened teeth shining with rain. "You can't possibly think you can throw something this large!" At her command, the monster swiped its hand, grabbed the obnoxious pink strand.

His feet slid in the mud before he secured himself with more Bungee Gum, made this a tug-of-war he had no intention of following through with. The moment it backed away to stretch his aura beyond its limits, he let go.

"I'm sure you've heard the saying the bigger they are, the harder they fall," he teased, standing mockingly in place as the monster pulled back tentacles, as Sybil seethed. "Do you think that's true?"

"Shut up!" she snapped, sea monster tensing to attack.

Her face paled, the monster wailing as it swayed, unbalanced, restrained. Bungee Gum contracted further, a web of stands woven between tentacles and an arm to force them towards its torso. He'd tediously set the trap as he danced around attacks, hid his work with In until he had bait to distract her, keep her close. That came as an insult- opponents did so like to be taken seriously. In trying to throw something absurdly large like it was nothing, he had gotten under her skin. A matter of time now, he supposed, and his mild entertainment would be gone.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Sybil said, voice nearly drowned out by the rain and the monster's intermittent shrieking as it struggled against his aura like an animal in a net. "So, like, you're a transmuter, right?" His grin showed teeth as dark green aura surged around Sybil and her conjured monster. He licked his lips, anticipating her next words, so hoping they were what he thought they would be. "I just have to stretch this until it tears."

Its hand lashed out as the few free tentacles flailed around him. Sharpened claws curled around the remains of the train, metal crunching as it lifted into the air. His sight was obscured by writhing tentacles, deafening din of twisting metal and screeching humans heard above thunder and rain. Before the inevitable, his aura creeped to the side, guaranteed his escape. Perhaps his next trick would be a simple disappearing act. A lightning flash, a parting of limbs, a contraction of aura, and the train smashed into the ground, impact causing an explosion, flames blinding in former darkness.

Now to see her expression as her latest-

Hisoka whipped around, held up his arm to block a fist aimed for his face. More fracturing, he guessed, no longer sure because- "This is blissful," he mumbled, eyes wanting to roll back, pain barely registered under adrenaline, potency lost to a masochist's battle high. It'd been so dreadfully long since he had a proper battle that ended in death. At least it felt that way. "I might have found a ripe fruit to sate my appetite."

Sybil took another swing, aura focused in her hands, up her arms. He simply leaned to the side. She ground her teeth, took a daring step closer, jabbing at him, flailing as she failed to land blows. Close combat wasn't her strong suit- a conjurer with a massive construct, why ever take the risk to learn it? Except, that conflicted with the first strike's precision and power, didn't it? It took more than a lucky hit to damage him, after all.

An infuriating dance began. He contorted out of the way of another hit, taunting her as he stood in place. A card in his fingers, he swung upwards, lopped off a chunk of long hair. She avoided more serious damage. Again. The same card slashed open an errant tentacle reaching for his leg. His eyes narrowed as he threw the card with absurd speed from close range. Sybil escaped with a thin cut. He immediately followed by throwing several more cards. Sybil jumped to the side, aura across her body defensively the moment she stepped away from him. Caution. Concentration. She was planning an attack from behind, using herself as a distraction while pretending to be clueless about hand-to-hand combat.

It was an appallingly simple plan.

"I wonder," he hummed as he stepped to the side, "who's mocking who now?" As she passed by, a single string of aura bound her to him.

He smiled, giving a pull to the aura attached to her chest. She dug her heels into the ground. Instead of desperation, her eyes narrowed severely. That look, the chill in the air as her aura flickered with bloodlust, a tingle ran down his spine. He wanted nothing more than to crush that defiance.

He began reeling her in. A moment of resistance. A grin cutting across her face as she launched herself directly at him. Hisoka flung her to the side, sent her face into the ground. Mud sprayed with the impact. He tugged at his aura to convince her back onto her feet to try whatever she had planned again.

Instead a clawed hand slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs and the smile from his face. He went flying to side. He contracted Bungee Gum, planning to take Sybil with him, but he was jerked back towards the behemoth. Sybil rested comfortably in the grip of her monster, mud and blood dripping from her nose to dirty smirking lips.

For a few seconds, he got to experience what his opponents felt when he carelessly and repeatedly flung them through the air and into the ground.

Unable to dislodge her from the creature's grip, he released his aura. He landed a distance away. The burning sensation in his side, a rib had fractured, if not broken, with the first impact. He wiped a hand across his face, his lip bleeding again, cuts on the inside of his cheek pooling blood in his mouth. Sybil returned to the creature's shoulder as it shrieked in victory. She had accomplished what she had wanted. He released the shredded remains of the Bungee Gum formally tying the monster's tentacles together. She had had time to stretch most of his aura beyond its limits anyway.

Not that he cared. To the contrary, it would have been over much too soon if his first trick had succeeded.

This was, after all, just the beginning of the fun.

* * *

Arri covered her foot as she launched another scorpion-ant hybrid into the air. Virgil came out of Zetsu as the pieces scattered. Lan spun on her heel, flung her arms to the side as she almost slipped, as hair clung to her face to blind her. A kick to her leg and her side hit cold, wet ground. Arri lashed out in the same moment. Its jaw snapped for a limb, catching slacks and skin, failing to find bone. Virgil retreated a step only to stumble. His feet slid out from under him, sending him onto the ground as she scrambled to her feet.

A fox fully formed in her aura, Arri lunging for Virgil. Just as its mouth prepared to slam closed over his face, he summoned another fucking bug, crammed it in Arri's mouth before he haplessly rolled away to avoid another slip. Bug Net the bastard called his conjuration ability.

As Arri faded, the crushed chew-toy insect falling to the ground, Virgil rolled too far, darkness engulfing him as he let out a strangled curse. A ditch. He'd rolled down into a ditch and _that_ Lan found hilarious enough to smile at. She rushed to the edge, lightning overhead offering her the sight of Virgil in filthy shoulder-high water, his hair in disarray as it escaped his ponytail. He'd be even more hindered by the conditions now, his water-dotted glasses already a strike against him.

He disappeared in the darkness. His aura followed, hiding in Zetsu again despite admitting her knife-like aura felt uncomfortable. She bent her legs, prepared to jump on top of him and slice him apart with Arri the second she heard a splash.

Something slammed into her back.

Lan lost her footing, was sent tumbling down the ditch into the water face-first. She held her breath as her head dipped below the surface. Arri remained over her, pale blue glow lighting what would have otherwise been pitch black, mud-clouded water. As her momentum slowed, as the shock of the hit wore away, she realized he had summoned a bug that then knocked her in with him. Her height, she wouldn't be able to stand in the water with more than her face above the surface. Needed to get out.

Not a stroke into swimming away, a pull at her shirt, the returning buzz of his aura, sent her pounding heart to her throat. A Nen-reinforced knee slammed into her stomach, made her take an involuntary gasp that flooded her mouth with putrid water. Another hit and she swallowed more, throat closing, lungs burning for air. She flailed, searched for him in the darkness as her aura faltered with a lack of oxygen and overwhelming fear. His hands kept her underwater, Nen concentrated on protecting them. Even when she nicked him with Arri, managed to kick his leg from under him, he held her below the surface. Resistance would become more difficult. The burn in her chest fanned desperation. Swimming was only tolerable when she had control. The second she lost that, the second drowning became an imminent fear, she was absolutely terrified of water. That fear never completely left her, even after all the training to desensitize her to it. The fact that _Virgil_ held her under, that his aura paraded across her skin, she was ten again, defenseless, and back at the compound, trapped and suffocating and slowly dying.

 _If you let your fears consume you, you will become helpless._ Distant words in the back her mind reminded, taunted, as her conscious threatened to fade in the dark. _You will die._

Like hell she would let him be right.

Arri strengthened as she shoved aside all consideration for oxygen-starved lungs, for the man that had killed her in nightmares for years. His aura fought for a final moment before she broke through, a hand mangled before he could retreat. A teeth-lined jaw snapped around his leg, pulled him under instead. Arri holding him from below, all Virgil's aura resisting having his leg severed, she jumped on his back, clawed at his head until she had a handful of slippery hair. With bare hands, her aura elsewhere, she forced his head under. He thrashed, managed to break the surface, but Arri tugged him back under as Lan's nails sunk into his skin. His aura wavered, Arri's teeth sinking into bone, but death by blood loss would be a mercy. She wanted him to know what suffocating felt like. She would _make_ him know.

A flash of lightning, chimera ants rising to the surface of churning water, Lan's grip on his hair tightened, strands of black wrapping around her fingers. If they reached her, stung her, bit her, she didn't know if they, too, were made from venomous species. Her brain overruled emotion.

Her heels dug into his back as Arri retreated, became a second skin around her. She propelled herself away while holding her breath to submerge and swim. She only made it a few meters, dark water too terrifying right now even with some control returned to her.

As soon as Lan's fingers raked through mud, she threw up mouthfuls of water, coughed her throat raw. She was shaking, freezing temperature just now hitting her as adrenaline began to wear off. She struggled on all fours up the steep side of the ditch. A splash to her side, the sound of heaving, Virgil would begin dragging himself from the ditch soon.

At the top, she was greeted by pale blue. Nemmi. Her eyes widened as he hopped on the ground, grateful to see her relatively unharmed. He probably disobeyed orders to come save her. Where did he leave… Never mind. Chrollo was crouched a few meters behind Nemmi, his attention flickering between the ditch she had crawled out of and her. He had his Ben's knife in hand. When he noticed she had found him, he flashed the blade at her, motioned to the ditch as Virgil's head popped into sight. Nemmi went to him, snatched the knife the moment she understood the plan.

He wanted to take Virgil captive. As much as she wanted to kill the bug bastard, he would be more useful alive. For now. She would finish what he started, and that was a promise.

Virgil's few chimera ants surrounded him as he hauled himself to solid ground. The punctures on his leg, fabric torn away, mixed oozing blood with rain. He wouldn't be standing if he felt pain. The hair stuck to his face failed to hide scratches across his cheek from her nails. Lan tensed, prepared for him or the ants to launch at her. Instead, Virgil turned his attention to Chrollo. "You," Virgil said, voice rasping from the attempted drowning, "are a pain. Facilitating Lanfen's escape, what do you want?" He shoved his glasses back onto his nose, the frames bent from the struggle. "The item, so, a better question is why do I recognize you?"

A cocky half-smile pulled at Chrollo's lips, only a partial act, at Virgil's suspicions and Nemmi dropping his knife into her hand unnoticed.

"Then again," Virgil said, forcing a laugh before his voice dropped off. He pulled back his arm, revealed a slick rock tightly gripped in his fingers. "Getting rid of you is more important than an answer." Nen poured into the rock and Lan's stomach flipped. Chrollo's eyes narrowed, but he stood firm, silently commanding Lan to forget him to attack. Regardless, Nemmi circled back around to protect him.

Nemmi was too slow. Virgil pitched the Shu-enforced rock as lightning relit the sky. Chrollo, amazing man he was, dodged by a hair, but that lack of Nen still screwed him over. Aura ripped through his jacket's sleeve, slammed into his skin with bruising force while opening several lacerations. Even a glancing hit like that to the head, to anywhere near vital organs, and he would be dead. The tiniest, near imperceptible, twitch in his expression as he moved his arm, it was a wince. And that, that colored her aura with unfounded fury.

Virgil shot forward to finish the job as his insects sought to distract Lan, her feet splashing in mud as she charged him. Nemmi crashed into his face. Talons gouged flesh before Virgil had a chance to bring up his arm, sacrifice it instead. Lan closed the distance, Arri slashing apart insects as they launched at her like locusts.

Lan dived. Virgil stepped to the side. The tip of the blade cut skin.

She rolled, slid as she tried to spring to her feet. Fingers found her wrist, kept her from falling back into the mud. Chrollo dropped her arm once she had her footing, their eyes on Virgil as Nemmi returned to Lan's shoulder, cawing in victory. Virgil's hand went to the cut on his arm, that infuriating smugness of his giving away to something between confusion and anger. He stared at his unmoving fingers and then to her as she sheathed the blade. She handed it back to Chrollo, silently taunting that he had fallen for the distraction. For once, Virgil seemed to be struck speechless.

A hum filled air suddenly alive with wasps. Retribution for a loss. Surrounded and near, the wasps' wings fought rain to blanket them in stingers. Lan reacted on instinct. She tackled Chrollo to the ground, flared Arri over her back, pushed her limits to extend razor fur without forming it fully. The horde mindlessly threw themselves into a barrier of aura. While Nemmi shredded the stragglers, as parts fell to the ground, Chrollo turned his head, his lips almost against her ear.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," he whispered. "Especially not to this extent."

Her eyes went wide. An apology? Now? In the middle of a battle? She didn't exactly have time for this.

The moment the hum of wasp wings and aura disappeared, she pushed herself up enough to look over her shoulder. He was… gone. Like one of Hisoka's damned magic tricks, Virgil had vanished within seconds. "Nemmi, use En," she ordered, fingers curling in wet fabric instead of soil. Just as she glanced down, Chrollo set his hand over hers, slowly, if half-heartedly, prying her fingers from of his shirt. She didn't move, kept him pinned in the mud for safekeeping until she confirmed Virgil was truly gone and not hiding nearby in Zetsu.

When Nemmi returned to pout, Lanfen frowned.

"Perhaps he used that conjuration ability in reverse to flee," Chrollo offered when she finally got off him and let him out of the mud. "Although, that would require an extraordinary amount of restrictions to function. Does the item make it easier to cross categories?" he mused, Lan rolling her eyes. Analyzing abilities must be some sort of a pastime to him.

They both fruitlessly tried to brush mud from their sopping wet clothes. The storm continued to beat them down with cold rain and colder wind. When they gave up on a futile effort to find comfort, Chrollo opened his mouth, likely to add to his earlier 'apology.' Lan trudged the opposite direction to begin their miserable trek to the highway.

She wasn't interested in listening to him right now. She was freezing from soaked clothes, coughing up water from nearly drowning, and in a terrible mood from Hisoka's visit. Lies and excuses would only irritate her more. He could take his insincere apology and shove it.

* * *

Jagged metal, a makeshift weapon, sliced into the clown's arm. Sybil caught onto a tentacle, flung herself away to avoid another exchange. The last broke her nose- still pissed her off, even if she broke his in return. As she landed at a distance, she grit her teeth. Hisoka smiled that infuriating smile as he showed off his arm, his perfectly untouched, non-blood-stained arm. Another trick. An aggravating one. No matter the damage, the blood on her weapon, he was doing something that made his injuries disappear. Something that prevented him from bleeding to death like she so wanted him to.

The fist-shaped bruise forming on his cheek and the split lip, she envied whoever got to punch him.

Apocalypse Countdown wailed at her side. This battle was pushing its limits, _her_ limits, at a fifty-fifty share. They were reaching the point she would have to share more than fifty percent of her aura to continue regenerating the damage done by the magician and the occasional lightning strike. Stupid, giant lightning rod… A minor inconvenience, but it would take away her fun. She, like, enjoyed fighting with her actual hands.

Virgil seemed to be having a time with the princess, too. Idiot couldn't handle a kid…

Sybil jumped, had tentacles make an undulating bridge under her feet as she chased Hisoka. He weaved between tentacles like a damn ballerina. He stopped abruptly, gold eyes narrowing as they met hers. A dozen playing cards cut through the rain. She dodged what she could, continuing forward, hot blood dripping from gashes on her arms and legs.

He leaned away from her slash. Apocalypse Countdown whipped him to the side, the bastard chuckling at her anger when she saw his feet sticking in place because of that dumb gum ability. Using In, he was hiding something else… She returned to his side, he contorted, leaned back impossibly far while keeping on his feet. She turned on her heel as he straightened up, raised a fist. A fist that never came.

His foot dug into her side with a snap. Sybil found a home in a fresh, muddy crater. Air knocked out of her, she stumbled to her feet drunkenly. Hisoka gracefully landed beside her.

"How disappointing," he said, melodramatic as he pouted. "I expected more of a fight from you after Lan built up your reputation. Then again, perhaps I expect too much from her. From you." He paused, sweeping his arms out as his eyes became upturned slits in his glory. "After all, it doesn't seem you've injured me at all."

The blatant taunt was met with lashing tentacles. Hisoka's grin failed to leave as he danced around hits, used a card to lop off parts of Apocalypse Countdown that hit the ground to fester, to rot into non-existence. Sybil took a step forward as soon as she recovered from her latest trip into the ground.

Only a step and she felt that elastic pull at her sides. Her eyes went to the clown as his sharp-nailed fingers lit with pink aura. He pulled the aura attached to her chest from an earlier blow, the aura on her sides connected to the ground now stretched.

"Shit," she hissed right before she was slingshot into the air at such high velocity the rain felt like pins.

Dozens of cards followed her into the air, towards the superficial nicks to threaten flesh and bone. A split second before impact she used Ryu around what would become deadly wounds. Lesser protected areas found cards imbedded in bone, her left arm just short of being severed.

That was the moment she decided to stop screwing around.

Apocalypse Countdown ripped her out of the air before the magician slammed her into the ground to repeat the process. He instead released his Bungee Gum, fanning out several cards in his hand with the intent to throw them. The monster tipped back its head, rows of sharpened teeth parting as it dangled her above its mouth. Bony fingers dropped her, air rushing by-

And she teleported to fuck knows where. A white-walled hell flickered briefly in sight before her boots sloshed in a mud puddle. Back outside in the rainstorm, now in the trees lining the train tracks, this had Virgil and Bug Net written all over it.

Her bloodlust spiked as she heard the piercing wails of Apocalypse Countdown in the distance. It melted into a puddle of decaying slime, dead by restrictions. Bug Net counted as indoors apparently, and fuck if Apocalypse Countdown: Monster Playing under the Sky worked indoors. That was Indoor Fish's domain.

"Like, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" she snapped at Virgil, not even bothering to look at him as she stomped back towards her fight. She had fifty percent still. She'd use it all to conjure Apocalypse Countdown again. She didn't really need defenses while safely in its gut anyway.

"Don't," Virgil snapped, breathing labored, aura weak. She stopped. The pin-prick of his aura had nearly disappeared. Using Bug Net on people, especially other people, drained his energy immensely.

She glanced over her shoulder, curious. Deep scratches down his face, hair a rat's nest, arm torn to pieces, and leg bleeding through poorly wrapped bandages, he definitely lost. Not only that, but his left side also appeared to be paralyzed.

She could kill him, take care of Hisoka, and then capture Lanfen by herself. Virgil would be a casualty to the mission if she made it look like someone else had finished what Lanfen started.

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted his phone clutched in his right hand, nickname Half-face on screen as time ticked on. Bastard had called Joan as a fail-safe. If she killed him, Minji would suffer the consequences.

Honestly, Sybil didn't care about the item in the slightest. About Fanghe, even. She had the mafia- albeit the dons were dead- and she was a Hunter -that Pariston liked well enough to keep around. She had it made. The Fan Shi were pretty damn useless to her. Had been since the moment she finished training under Fanghe, really.

The problem was entirely Circe. Circe was family. If you had family in Meteor City, could afford to cling onto it, you did, Sybil no exception to that standard. 'Don't take from us…' and all that jazz. And Minji, because she was all but married to Circe, that made her family too. Or at least it did when Circe threateningly said so while toting a barrel-full of poison vials. So, Sybil ended up roped into whatever Minji had going on here. Which they refused to tell her about, though she didn't really give a crap. It seemed like revenge towards and for the long dead.

She now also happened to need a rhinoplasty to fix her nose. Again. Minji might loathe preforming plastic surgery, but she always got such fantastic results. Sybil didn't even need to pay if she bitched to Circe enough that it got on her nerves.

Hisoka would just have to wait.

Sybil huffed, stuffing away her annoyance to use Zetsu. She hauled bug-boy to his feet by the collar of his shirt. He stumbled, unable to stand by himself, so she groaned and threw his arm over her shoulder to support him. And then drag him because he wasn't going fast enough. It'd take _forever_ to get to the highway. After all, they drove here. Joan forfeited a small fortune to the mafia and another to anyone with solid tips, to find Lanfen this time. Minji had guessed they were on the train, though. Must be annoyed with the chase to finally be working together.

"Get bit by one of your bugs or something?" she asked, Virgil more limp by the second. If he keeled over, she was finishing her fight.

"Lanfen's nameless friend happened to have a poison-laced knife," Virgil choked out, voice raspy and strained. Must be a hell of a poison to shut him up. "Call Circe for me?"

"If you, like, throw up on me, you're dead." Sybil reached into her pocket, gnashing her teeth together at all the rips in her clothes. Machi would charge her a fortune to fix this… If she could even get in touch with her. Her favorite seamstress disappeared with the rest of the damned Phantom Troupe. "I'm not sticking around if you end up in a hospital bed," she warned, fed up with him.

* * *

They walked in predictably tense silence.

Chrollo glanced at her as she began coughing again. Ten minutes ago, she had thrown up water- almost on his feet, a bit of spite perhaps motivating her aim, but he'd had worse things on him than watery vomit. In any case, she told him to shut up before he could make any comment, let alone ask what had happened- though he had a fair idea, given the rain-filled ditch she and Virgil had crawled out of.

He had expected the hostility, situation considered.

Hisoka's untimely arrival had been a strategic nightmare as far as his original plan was concerned. Hisoka had undoubtedly saw through the situation. Chrollo had wanted to lure him to his death, both for revenge for his betrayal and to keep this from escalating to include more losses, without giving Hisoka the death-match he so wanted. Lanfen would make poor bait now, and he had no use for poor bait.

Normally, Chrollo would just abandon a plan without consideration if he knew it wouldn't work. But Lanfen… This situation was very abnormal indeed.

Inviting Lanfen to join the Spider had already been a deviation. A complicating one. He had decided that, in the very least, he wanted her as a Spider if _both_ was inconceivable. He could bare that. Because then, at least, she would still be near, still be his in the most affectionate sense of the phrase.

If Hisoka had taken another Spider from him…

What Chrollo had seen upset him more than he cared to let on. Perhaps because he knew enough about Lanfen to sympathize with her to a degree. Or, possibly, because he had seen how this sort of thing ended. Being dumped in Meteor City, near blind and mute from disfigurement, a newborn bastard in tow, was more merciful than what Lanfen would receive from Hisoka.

Bruised cheek, split lip, harsh bitemark on the neck, that hadn't been foreplay to Lanfen. It was self-defense. The distress, she hadn't been able to hide it beneath aloofness or anger. Hisoka's advances had been wholly unwelcomed by her. He had greatly misjudged their relationship. Hisoka might hold her with a bit more importance than warranted given her capabilities, but she was still just a toy. Given how Lanfen loathed being treated as an item… They were in the process of self-destructing, and Lanfen would likely be the one burned by the aftermath.

He never intended for this to happen, but good intentions paved the road to hell.

He might have gained her hatred for this. He might have lost a potential Spider, friend, and lover in one miscalculation. Perhaps this was fate deciding what he had avoided.

At least he had been granted an opportunity to… to begin apologizing. A show of humility and regret might convince her to listen, to not consider his every word a venomous lie to manipulate her. The chance to salvage their relationship still existed, though he should leave it to die as fate wanted. It was best for the Spider if he let this go. His preoccupation with her was, in fact, dangerous. He shouldn't care about her feelings, let alone his own. Prioritizing such trivial things would diminish his effectiveness as a leader. Probably. Best to not find out the hard way.

Lanfen abruptly stopped, aiming a sharp glare over her shoulder, surprisingly not aimed at him. Chrollo looked behind him as well, though he already had a guess. The wailing of Apocalypse Countdown had ended a few minutes ago.

Hisoka sauntered over to them. Barring the few tears in his clothes, he appeared fine. A shame. The lack of a wide grin hinted at agitation. "Another fruit slipped away because someone interfered," he bemoaned. Sybil was alive. While he enjoyed Indoor Fish, he would have preferred these two to have shredded each other into pieces. They happened to be two of the three biggest nuisances in his life.

Instead of promptly returning to Greed Island to preform his promised 'card trick' to reach Anchi before they did, Hisoka went straight to Lanfen. She didn't move, her eyes darting to the ground as she kept her expression blank. He tilted Lanfen's chin before planting his lips on hers. The fixed stare forward, the complete lack of movement, the lost will to resist, she seemed defeated. He whispered something to her- likely relating to Chrollo with how Hisoka's eyes darted to him while he spoke. Despite the non-reaction from Lanfen, he pulled away with a smile, his nails dragging down her throat as a silent threat.

"I just threw up," she said flatly, Hisoka's smile dying under a hint of disgust.

"How cute," Hisoka cooed, patting her head, killing the little joy she got from his reaction. "You're as petty as ever, my fledgling. Try to be a good girl while I'm gone, won't you? You-"

"Hisoka," Chrollo warned, the belittling taunts on _his_ nerves. He imagined that if Hisoka continued, Lanfen would snap and lash out at him again. The momentary satisfaction of hitting him would quickly be buried beneath the consequences. He wasn't allowing Hisoka to harass her more than he already had.

Hisoka quieted, dropping his hand back to his side, between irritation and pleasure at Chrollo interrupting. "I guess my work here _is_ done," he shrugged, gold shifting from oddly annoyed Chrollo and sulking, defeated Lanfen with a look of victory. If he thought he had taken Lanfen back, he was mistaken; she just hated them both now. Of course, that didn't matter to Hisoka. Attention was attention. "Don't have too much fun without me," he added, a flourish of his hands reproducing the ring needed for Greed Island. He stood at Chrollo's side, held his hands on either side of the bag-bound console, and used Ren to disappear back inside.

The silence in his absence would usually be beautiful. Instead, Chrollo and Lanfen stood in freezing rain, wounded and antagonized. They were back at the starting point. Back to terse conversations laced with suspicion, stretches of heavy silences, and defensive hostility. Except, even with forgiveness, regaining lost trust was an arduous task.

"Shut up," she mumbled, already stomping through the mud again. He looked away, understanding that's what she meant. He wondered what expression he was making, if any at all. It was likely sadness.

Sadness over a loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Lan and Chrollo shared their first kiss... only for Hisoka to show up and utterly ruin it. Typical Hisoka, ruining plans. Though, this time, it was an honest accident. Chapters back when Chrollo met with Hisoka, he asked him to come back with a status update a few weeks in. I believe a 'leave' card brings the user back to console they entered from, so that's how Hisoka ended up in cramped train compartment a half-day early, much to everyone's mutual displeasure. Until he was suddenly needed to fight off Sybil. If anyone's more curious, I do have a sketch of Sybil and Apocalypse Countdown (as well as all the Fan Shi, Lanfen, and others) on my deviantart- https://www.deviantart.com/awkwardblackcat 
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos!  
> Thank you, mina, I'm glad you're loving the story!


	28. Confide: Confined

Lanfen leaned into the door, watching rain droplets trickle down the glass.

After Hisoka left, after Chrollo and her finished trekking to the highway in cold silence, the world decided to give them a break. They found an unattended car. Just, right on the side of the road, keys in the ignition and everything. No problems with it. No people around. Just a convenient car, sitting there for the taking. So convenient, in fact, that even Chrollo was a little suspicious of it. After a bit of inspection, they took it because anything beat standing in the freezing rain. Especially for Lan, because she kept coughing, her lungs irritated by stagnant water and dropping body temperature. (Using Ten would have helped, but she really didn't want to attract Sybil right back to them. Assuming Sybil could fight after a bout with Hisoka. She would be one to try, Lan felt.)

The heater on full-blast had been blissful.

But, as per her luck, newfound hope fizzled away to create a mini-nightmare in a larger one. Once they approached Cenvien, where they planned to take an airship to Kou-Ang, they were stopped by a dozen-or-more car pile-up that created an unmoving traffic jam flashing with police lights. The car didn't have enough fuel to keep it running while they waited for the mess to be cleared. Meaning no more heat. Just frigid silence.

She pulled the blanket below her eyes, breaking the quiet with crinkling. She hid her runny nose, so she could be gross and wipe it on her filthy tank-top. Tissues weren't supplied by the lovely rental dealership the car had come from, apparently. The emergency supplies in the trunk were, though. Like the stiff emergency blanket. Helpful, even if it had caused a brief argument.

Lan had refused to strip out of her wet clothes beyond tossing away her vest and long-sleeve shirt. It was stupid, but she didn't want to sit around in her underwear in plain view of Chrollo. Maybe not ever, but definitely not right now. He had looked annoyed every time she began coughing. The second they got caught in traffic, heat off, the situation was no longer tolerable for him. He got the kit out the trunk despite the continued downpour outside. He threw the blanket on her. The second she tried to tell him to take it, he just said "Lanfen, take it." A firm order, but not without a softened voice and a change in expression. Annoyance had instead been frustrated concern. A lie or not, she really had problems telling, stubborn thread of trust frayed, not snapped.

The atmosphere in the car exemplified that. Heavy silence, each drop of rain seeming to echo in the quiet… The saying about cutting tense air with a knife, well, this silence would break the blade. Shatter it into a billion sharp pieces.

The sad thing was the hostility infecting the air was entirely her doing. Try as she may to completely deny Chrollo's existence, faint reflections in the windows, the few glances she stole, she couldn't. He was now staring out the window pensively. Not a word on the subject of betrayal had been spoken since his attempted apology. Again, he didn't defend his actions. He made no attempt to justify them to her, to convince her she had been mistaken, nor to use her volatile emotions against her. Instead, he was giving her time to process.

Not that she had made much progress…

Her fingers tore at the hem of her shirt. She needed to do _something_ , clearly, but _something_ was much too vague. Change, change was hard. How to even begin? The first obvious step seemed nigh impossible. Hisoka, he wouldn't just let her run off into oblivion never to see him again. His ability was prophetic. He ensnared her, would only release her when he lost interest. And losing his interest, that had never meant anything but death.

How many times had she already failed at distancing herself from him? Each meeting brought her closer to the expiration of his interest. How many more chances did she realistically have? Even if she hid, if he wanted, she didn't doubt that he could - _would_ \- find her. The lengths he went to get Chrollo to fight him… Making an enemy of _the_ Phantom Troupe… If he wanted something, he got it through whatever means necessary. How was she supposed to hide from _that_ level of insane obsession? Chrollo only fanned his jealousy, made her some sort of fucking prize in their pissing match.

This was hopeless, wasn't it? She stepped into a cage, locked the door on herself before tossing the only key between vengeful idiots that-

_RIP!_

Lanfen startled, spine straight, eyes wide, at the horrendously loud sound. That she made. By ripping the bottom her shirt. Her fingers felt along the tear instead of acknowledging the sets of eyes on her. Nemmi hopped from the back of the seat to her head, peered down to cock his head to the side.

"Lanfen, perhaps we should address this now."

"No," she spat out, whipping around to glare at Chrollo. She faltered on her next words, somber grey somehow convincing her to hear him out. He did sort of try to apologize, damn his ego to admit a wrong… Rationally, she should think of it as nothing more than a part of the manipulation, but… That stupidly irrational part of her still wanted to believe him.

He offered, "A question for a question."

She swallowed, twirling a frayed thread around her finger, her eyes anywhere else. She understood. Yet, at the same time, she didn't. What would he accomplish in trading his motive for her relationship with Hisoka? Anything he learned would be useless if he detailed his plan to her. "Why should I trust you to answer honestly?" He would lie. Obviously, he would get his information and lie in his answer to still use whatever he learned. Otherwise this exchange made little strategical sense. Even if to just regain a tiny flicker of trust to manipulate, explaining would nullify its worth. A paradox, almost.

"Relationships of all sorts are built on trust. We still need each other." He tried to stress _we_ but Lanfen felt she needed his help a lot more than he needed hers. He could leave, abandon the mission against the Fan Shi whenever he wanted without consequence. Especially now, with her use gone and his Troupe ready to collect the item from the ashes. "We will make no progress if you can't trust me to keep even a small promise."

A promise. The word alone made her hesitate. _Could_ she trust him to fulfill a small promise? Her immediate thought was 'yes,' but her impulsive decisions were rarely correct. Then again, maybe it was okay this time. He usually answered her questions. He upheld bargains. And, given she did need help from him, or, in the very least, his Troupe, he was right. Being on speaking terms without tangible hostility would increase her odds of survival. That was why he started the 'honest dishonesty' game in the beginning.

"Why should I go first, then?" she weakly argued, laden with guilt, on the verge of another mistake. Maybe she was a masochist, too, to keep doing this to herself. But, once again, Chrollo was right. She couldn't start any sort of relationship without basic trust.

"No good reason." For a quirk of a smile, the sadness reflected in his eyes made it incredibly forced. He didn't like this situation any more than she did. "Although, I suspect you may refuse to speak to me should I go first," he half-heartedly joked, his lame attempt to lighten the oppressive tenseness between them to talk candidly. He _wanted_ to talk. Even if it meant sharing in turn.

Lan fiddled with her thread, ignored Nemmi's concerned chirping.

She had never discussed Hisoka with anyone. Not Auntie. Not Morel. Not Knuckle. Not anyone, because he wasn't just anyone. Even if she trusted those three more than most, Hisoka was a subject they would have difficulty following because they would presume him the antithesis of her. He openly presented himself as chaos, as an insatiable predator, while she hid her nature behind disguises and forced calm. Hisoka was her future.

Chrollo, honestly, somehow, might understand their dynamic better than anyone aside from Hisoka himself. Chrollo had known Hisoka longer than her, after all. He had experienced a similar betrayal as well. He knew they weren't opposites. He might understand why that hurt. Maybe admitting her snowballing mistake to someone besides Nemmi would help, be a first step to a first step.

And, she rationalized that she wanted to hear his plan from his mouth instead of speculating.

Just as Chrollo's lips parted to prod her from silence, she let, "I met him two, nearly three, years ago during the Hunter Exam," spill out. Best to start at the beginning, even if Chrollo had already connected some dots. He knew where she had met Sybil, knew Hisoka was at the same exam because he had likely given him permission to be there. She leaned back, closed her eyes briefly to avoid attentive eyes. He gave the impression he cared, and she wondered if she should settle for that alone. That might be the best she got, considering who she found herself attracted to lately.

"I was young and even stupider." She smiled bitterly to herself, because, as collected as she had felt arriving at the exam, she hadn't been nearly prepared enough for the consequences. "He was just… He was the strongest person I'd ever seen and…" _And I got overly excited like a fan meeting an idol._ He had just seemed so… perfect. Or, at least, her former idea of perfect: a monster controlled by no one but himself. "We had a very one-sided fight, but he thought I had enough potential to someday be interesting. I… I insisted on keeping in contact. I wanted a rematch. I wanted to know what it took to be strong like him. And what better way to learn than have it beaten into me?" It had worked, to a degree. Tricky, infuriating Hisoka prepared her for the physical and mental strains of battle. His fighting style, the acrobatic, graceful way he moved, she would admit to copying it. If only she had kept him at that distance…

"You wanted to prove yourself," Chrollo said, her eyes drifting to him for the reaction his voice lacked. He didn't seem surprised by her stupidity, nor did he seem to condemn her for it. "You admire him," he added, understanding instead of offended. Almost like he had once felt the same. "He lives by his own accord, utterly confident in his power, not bound by the rules and thoughts of others. An opposite to you in that regard. An ideal, I suppose."

"The next time I saw him… Earlier this year I found out he was at Heaven's Arena. I wanted to challenge him again, see if I'd improved." All her hard work training last year… He was a judge of talent as much as her ideal. She had thought that if she impressed him, maybe she had enough strength to fight off the Fan Shi. "I… It got complicated." _Because I wanted the impossible_. He had been content antagonizing her with words before she almost kissed him. Physical intimidation and violence would have been bad enough, but she handed him her emotions as well. And she _still_ went to find him again. "It was my fault, really, and he just sort of played along on a whim to see how I'd react and…" _And I reacted just like he wanted_. "Everything spiraled out of control."

She paused to fidget with her shirt. No specifics. She didn't want to give specifics even if an imagination left unchecked would paint a far darker image. Darker than placing her in the spotlight for an ongoing nightmare plagued by a ghost. "He tricked me. He didn't fight me, somehow signed up another participant instead of himself. I stormed out but… The Fan Shi… Minji was there and saw me." No matter how slow the reaction, they found her. She couldn't even blame Hisoka for that because she would have fought him there all the same. No, she could only blame him for making the trip pointless.

"Then Yorknew happened." She swallowed building nerves. Everything just sort of converged in Yorknew. "He led me to you and I…" A bitter, nervous laugh escaped her lips. She faced Chrollo, still amazed that she had him, of all the people in existence, sitting next to her. Right now, with his shirt unbuttoned, his hair pushed out of his eyes to reveal his cross tattoo, he looked like he did in Yorknew except… "You're terrifying, Chrollo," she said in reverence. Even if she could hate him, that fact would always remain. He was another nightmare. No matter how oddly… nice he treated her -a lie or not. No matter the adoration he held for his Spiders. Yet without the fur framing his face, the dark leather on pale skin, instead in a plain, dirty, torn shirt, his friends now absent, he seemed just as battered and alone as her. Because of Hisoka. "I knew the moment he betrayed you, I'd suffer for it. So, I shouldn't act surprised. Or even offended, really. He helped… Two of your friends ended up dead."

Silence permeated steadfastly tense air. She wanted sleeves to pull at, cover her hands with. She wanted all her layers of clothes to hide in. Right now, talking like this, reaching some sort of emotional intimacy with someone that had just so recently upset her, she felt far too naked. Too vulnerable. Especially if she continued. Forcing out even a quiet excuse for what happened that night to Auntie had been incredibly difficult. Detailing anything… It was a raw wound with salt scrubbed into it. Just threatening to talk about it made her eyes want to prickle with tears of shame, anger, and residual fear. It was absolutely pathetic. _She_ was absolutely pathetic.

Movement made her stiffen. She scrutinized Chrollo's outstretched hand, memorizing the lines of his palm as she stared. He could have just as easily set a hand on her shoulder, but he chose to offer her his hand instead. That… That gave her a choice. The hollowness in her chest brought on by the humiliation of that near-death moment…

Lanfen hesitantly set her hand in his. Cold skin reminded her of their… her petty argument. His fingers held hers, his thumb gently brushing over the cuts on her knuckles.

She gave up.

She pulled her hand away. Without any semblance of grace, she scooted closer to him, buried her face into the crook of his neck as she wrapped her arms around him. She'd take whatever comfort he was offering. This also allowed her to hide her face to finish her sad tale unseen. Chrollo stilled, obviously not expecting her to want any physical contact with him, let alone a hug. The moment the initial shock wore off, he shifted. He tentatively held her, a hand soothingly set on her back. His other hand rested on the back of her head, resisting threading through her hair, instead just allowing her to press her face against his neck.

He contradicted the imagery of his title so perfectly. Offering comfort didn't seem completely foreign to him, his reluctance based on her own. He saw a boundary he didn't want to cross.

If even half of this wasn't an act, that might be enough.

"He gave me my rematch," she eventually continued, voice muffled as she refused to lift her head. Another bitter smile tugged at her lips. "He showed me that I'm no where near ready to face him. Nor the Fan Shi. Nor the Spider. I was… I didn't have control over anything." Just a ragdoll to others' will again. Back to being a child caught in a game as a sacrificial pawn. "He had such a fun time tearing me apart that he choked me until I blacked out. I didn't expect to wake up. I still don't really know why he didn't kill me, even if it would have inconvenienced him in getting to fight you, since you'd already expressed interest in the item, by default me, he- His aura, his expression, he was going to kill me, but spared me only to say he's still going to kill me someday and-"

Everything spilled out in one breath. She loathed that she couldn't even keep a level voice. It had happened _months_ ago. She should be over it. She shouldn't be accepting comfort from _anyone_ just to indulge the pathetic part of her so caught up on an inevitability.

"I just… I realized that he… I…" Fumbling words trailed off. Explaining what she realized on the train, that was too recent, too emotionally raw. And she didn't have to. She had control over that much, at least.

For a few silent seconds, she stole fleeting comfort despite herself. Another heartbeat in her ear, the bit of warmth forming between them, made her not feel as alone- even if, in bitter truth, she was, Chrollo just using her too.

"So, that's it," she whispered, pulling away, returning to her seat to press her side to the door in a desperate measure to place distance between them. She pulled the blanket up to hide as much of her as possible. While she still accepted the hand he re-offered her, she stared out the window to escape his pitying gaze. She quickly found his reflection instead. The slight warmth, the gentle grasp of his fingers around hers, remained her focus. "I don't know what you wanted to get from that, but there you go." A harsh swallow and she finally admitted aloud, "I'm nothing to him. Just another thing to break."

"You two bring out the absolute worst in each other." The observation made her tense. Her hand in his, he traced the broken skin of her knuckles in example. "Lanfen, you're not one to physically lash out at your partner, nor your friends." Said with conviction she didn't understand, she questioned what he saw that she didn't.

She always considered herself violent. Even as a child. The innumerable times she hit her father, her instructor, some of the other staff… But never Auntie or her mother. Because they would never hit her. She chewed on her lip, questioning him. What had she done that had him so convinced? He knew she was a hypocrite. Her words and actions clashed, often changed with fickle emotions. At the aquarium, she had been a second away from breaking his wrist when he called her disguises out. He… he had a slight bruise that she wished she couldn't see. Earlier, she had been ready to slam her fist into his face for the lies. Yet she told Nemmi to not hurt him, to instead protect him. And now… Her grip on his hand tightened. She could hurt him. Break bone, sever limbs, without his Nen, she could do whatever she wanted. Her grip quickly slackened. She could, but she didn't want to. Not really. That's what made this so difficult. He'd made himself so hard to hate.

His eyes on his most recent wound, he rather affectionately said, "You may not feel pain yourself, but you're very aware when those you care for are hurt." He noticed, then, that she had been angered when Virgil went after him. Even if obvious, she wasn't ready to admit she cared about him. And not just out of fear of retribution should he get killed. She just… genuinely liked him. Because she refused to look at him, he softly squeezed her hand. "You're protective. Caring. Traits that I find rather endearing."

She bit her lip, unable to look at him for fear of finding some minute expression that betrayed his words as lies.

"Hisoka has proven more possessive of you than anyone else, with, perhaps, exception to me," he continued, voice immediately losing that bizarrely affectionate tone. This. This serious tone edged with irritation she could readily believe. "That's the status he's given you. In his own manner, he values you." Not words she needed to hear. In fact, they were quite the opposite. But he saw it as an undeniable truth. "Though, still, you are only a toy to him. The moment his interest wanes, he will most likely kill you out of disappointment, or, if you're lucky, abandon you for more interesting prey." Now a harsher truth she struggled to accept, even if it couldn't be more obvious. "You could wait and see if, on the unlikely chance, he changes, but I know you could do much better." His convictions never ceased to amaze her. So much so that she finally looked back at him to search void grey for any hint of doubt.

"As a Spider?" she asked, concern disguised as a joke.

"I would enjoy that," he said, quirk of a smile briefly in place before he continued with, "but you would be an exceptional Hunter as well. Or, truly, anything you wished. You have a tendency to underestimate your capabilities, Lanfen." His voice, the adoration in his expression, made it seem like so much more than flattery. If she were in a better mood, his honest praise might have made her combust. "You have a future if you avoid Hisoka."

His sweet words were devastating, in a way. She so wanted to believe him. To trust he cared even the tiniest bit about her. But everything he just said, all the reassurance he gave her, could quickly be proven false depending on his how he answered her question.

"I'm going to ask one last time," she said, managing to kill the apprehension in her voice. She needed an answer. A truthful one. Otherwise, whatever was going on between them, it was over before it could even be defined. She wouldn't give him a second chance if he refused to answer or blatantly lied. She couldn't. Not after what happened with Hisoka. "What do you want from me?"

He accepted that it was time for his trial, releasing her hand, any emotions reflected in his eyes replaced by cold intellect befitting of the head of the Spider.

* * *

Chrollo let go of her hand. He would no longer be a source of comfort in the face of brutal honesty. Because that was what was required. The truth would either help them reconcile or finish breaking them apart.

He selfishly wanted to salvage this. No matter the possible complications, the frivolous reasoning to his decision, he would prefer to have her with him. If confirming his former motives would assist in this, then he would. And, if the truth made her correctly realize she wanted nothing to do with him after the Fan Shi were dealt with, then so be it. It would honestly be easier for them both if this ended now. Further emotional involvement would only make a future decision more difficult.

But he already had plenty of time to think about this. He was just stalling now.

"Given the curse," he began, "I required a Nen-user to search Greed Island for the exorcist rumored to be there. I admittedly had limited options." Outside the Spider, all the Nen-users he knew either hated him or were left without their abilities _because he stole them_ \- and also hated him. He could have asked Lanfen, he supposed. But he had had other plans for her at the time. "He was to give a progress report two weeks after entering. If my Troupe found the exorcist first, Hisoka was to act as an escort." They were there, of course. He hoped they found the exorcist, because, if Lanfen was willing, he would like her to act as the escort instead. She wouldn't stalk him until he got his Nen back. No, she could keep him company. "During our meeting, you called Hisoka. He hung up on you after a single, mocking reply." Not necessarily odd, because Hisoka liked to irritate people. However, seeing _Hisoka_ mildly irritated was odd. And that made it an opportune time to act.

"I wanted to use you." He paused as Lanfen tore at her shirt. Though her eyes were focused on a distant point out the window, he could see her dejection reflected on the glass. Outright admitting it hurt her, if only because it confirmed her suspicions. Suspicions she had been trying to ignore once she began to like him. Began trusting him. "Taking you was one of the few ways I could get on his nerves." For something so petty, he manipulated her, crushed her trust like so many before him. He didn't like feeling regret or guilt, but that never stopped him from feeling them. Not completely, anyway. Denial just degraded his ability to cope. "I used the guise of collecting the Paijin's item to begin traveling with you. Given Hisoka's fickle nature, simply killing you wouldn't have had the desired effect. I needed to gain your trust to some degree in order to turn you against him."

He stopped again as Lanfen shifted, completely turning away from him to hide. She even remembered the reflection. Her hair fell as she titled her head, obscuring her face. If he wasn't the cause of her misery, he might have tried comforting her again. Although even that may be out of selfishness. Drunken hugs from his Spiders weren't quite the same as the hug he and Lanfen had just shared. He might be drunk on sentiment right now, actually. She was such a nice outlet for his emotions. Losing that, her, so soon after finding her, it would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing one of his limbs.

If things had gone as he had intended, the conversation would have ended there. But things changed. " _Then_ ," he stressed, the timing important, "I decided I wanted you to join the Spider." It might have played into his plan to use her against Hisoka, but the decision wasn't solely based around that reason.

Another string snap ended her thoughtful pause.

"Why?" she demanded, voice harsh in attempt to cover up doubt. This could, after all, just be a lie to mitigate the damage Hisoka's arrival had caused. Chrollo understood her suspicion. He wouldn't trust him either.

"Why, indeed." He glanced at the ceiling, compiling a short answer. The long answer would be complex, require detailed explanation of the Phantom Troupe from the rules to his motivations in creating it. Properly explaining their similarities would be highly personal. "You're loyal to your friends while callous towards others." His Spiders were certainly loyal to the doctrine he created. Her present yet lacking morality matched their own, with exception to matters concerning Meteor City. So long as she didn't feel trapped by the rules of the Phantom Troupe, she would fit in well. Though giving her a choice in the smallest of ways, she appreciated it entirely too much.

"While still inexperienced in battle, you're quite skilled. Your Nen is interesting." So much so that he considered stealing Nemmi, but he doubted it would be useful to him. Nen was an intimate subject. Skill Hunter might allow him to explore the originator's psychology, yet it did not recreate it. Lanfen… Nemmi operated on her complex understanding of the bird she modeled it after. Without those memories subconsciously feeding the Nen duplicate's behavior, it would likely be nothing more than a regular crow to him. A rarity indeed. "I can see you being useful to us." Nemmi, with its bizarre nature and mastery of In, would be perfect for scouting. Combined with the oddity that was Nemmi, her other ability, Arri- as she had called it when threatening Hisoka- appeared more simplistic and combat oriented. From the invisible demonstration earlier, it could be used offensively and defensively within close or mid-range battle. The general application of 'living metal' was versatile in of itself.

Such strange things in name and construction, he would love for her to explain them.

"I also enjoy your company," he added, well distracted by Nen abilities, but not losing his train of thought entirely.

Lanfen's lips formed a word, most likely _why_ , but she swallowed it. She didn't want the conversation to go off on that tangent. Not yet.

"Around the same time, I also considered seducing you. Hisoka's rather possessive of you, after all." His voice dropped off, a frown pushing at his brows. Even if she didn't choose the Phantom Troupe or him, if she wanted to live, she should avoid Hisoka. A premature, avoidable death would be a tragic waste. "You were not particularly subtle with your desires, either."

"So," she muttered, looking to the side, unable to meet his eyes, "it was all a lie."

He gave a bitter smile. "I changed my mind again," he admitted, ready to make a mistake of his own. "Lanfen, I find myself rather fond of you." Whatever expression she saw when she whipped around, her eyes widened. Was it that shocking? It shouldn't be, considering he went so far as to kiss her. Did she still think he was lying, then? Perhaps whatever trust she had in him was forever gone. Instead of just leaving the subject there, he added, "You're free to think that I'm lying, but I promise I'm not."

Promise. Such a simple word gained a reaction for a second time. For someone so cynical, she apparently held promises dear. How many promises must have been broken for her to end up so mistrustful… Yet even then, she stubbornly clung onto the hope that a promise had meaning. Futile resistance and hopeful perseverance always did fascinate him.

Lanfen studied him closely, gaze unbroken for a few moments. The blanket fell from her shoulders as she raised her arm. Nemmi presumably shuffled on, her stare otherwise focused on empty air. Consulting her own Nen, seeking comfort from it… After some encouragement from her friend, she looked back to him, determined.

"Why did you kiss me?" she demanded, fingers curled into a tight fist at her side.

"We kissed each other," he gently reminded, not allowing her to push responsibility onto him alone. "I wanted to," he reassured. "Mostly because I'm fond of you."

"Mostly?"

"You're also attractive."

"And you're annoying," she mumbled, trying to hide a twitch of a smile.

"Lanfen," he said, serious again, "the truth is that I'm not sure what I want from you." Her original question, he didn't have an answer to it. Or, rather, he did, and it conflicted with his duties as Danchou of the Phantom Troupe. That fact bothered him immensely. "I'm no longer interested in forcing you to act as bait in something as petty as irritating Hisoka. If the item requires your death, I'm not interested in it either." He knew he preferred her alive, but the rest… "While I do want you to join the Phantom Troupe, I'm unsure if my own feelings are a conflict of interest to the rules that govern us. The easiest solution would be for you to not join the Troupe, yet I-" He cut himself off, already talking in circles. This was exactly why he didn't want to try to explain this right now. Loathsome indecision… He sighed lightly, truly frustrated with himself. "That's not what I want."

"Chrollo, you're…" Lanfen trailed off, eyes bright like she'd had some sort of revelation. In her excitement, she leaned forward, caught his sleeve. "You- We-" She grabbed his hand when words failed her. He guessed she wanted to say something along the lines of 'you understand.' They were both confused at how to deal with their attraction to each other given their present circumstances. Without making a decision, they were left in a strange form of purgatory wrought with confliction.

With nothing more to say, another silence began. Chrollo happily let Lanfen cling to his hand. She traced the lines of his palm with her thumb as she considered everything he had told her. He didn't expect an answer to anything. Not now, while she was under the stress of the Fan Shi's pursuit.

When she turned her attention to her lap, to the blanket bunching under sharp talons, he found amusement. Especially as she muttered under her breath to address the creature's concerns. She frowned at whatever Nemmi had 'said' to her, a quiet argument ensuing between them. Nemmi seemed to represent rationality, grounding her in stressful situations while also attempting to keep her from impulsive decisions. Almost like an adviser. (While clearly a manifestation of thought and memory, the name Nemmi didn't seem based in ancient Norse mythology, Huginn and Muninn also ravens opposed to crows. He might have to use a question for a question to ask about her beloved bird, her dearest friend.)

After a few moments of consolation and thought, Lanfen looked back to him, made sure she had his attention with a soft squeeze to his hand. "I'm not ready to forgive you, but…" She tilted her head so her hair covered most of her face, uncomfortable, hesitant. "But I'll stupidly give you a second chance," came out in a rush. "I… I want to believe you."

"That's more than I deserve," he said quietly, reaching for her with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her hand, her skin warm. When she didn't move away, he brushed her hair to the side, lightly rested his hand on her cheek. He would have liked to kiss her, but… "I promise to not waste the opportunity."

Her eyes narrowed in offense. "You noticed, didn't you?"

"Noticed what?" His thumb stroked her cheek, lips almost quirked into a smile. He didn't often indulge himself with such human comforts. He wondered, if she were more relaxed with him, if she'd show him affection in return.

He shouldn't be doing this…

"That I like promises," she said sourly, pouting. Yet, she chose to lean into his hand instead of away. That faked anger and actual enjoyment quickly faded as her thoughts turned grim. He dropped his hand when she looked down, pulled away slightly. Her grip on his hand weakened as she reluctantly considered letting go.

"I don't go out of my way to break promises, Lanfen." Not to her. Because he had every intention of keeping this promise, even if it came with complications. Until he made a proper, decisive decision, he would enjoy their remaining time together.

Life was ever so fleeting, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one little additional fact for this chapter. The car they found and then took? 100% Sybil and Virgil's. Sybil about chucked poor paralyzed Virgil onto the highway... despite the fact she was definitely the one that forgot the keys in the ignition. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	29. Daydream in a Nightmare: Whirlwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warning: Sexual Content**  
>  If you want to skip, its in the later half of the chapter following their dinner date 'til the end.

_"Treat today like a vacation."_

Lan's eyebrows knitted together as she wandered around the conspicuously expensive department store that they could only reasonably enter after replacing their torn and muddied clothes at a cheaper store. Nemmi chirped on her shoulder, always one to agree with her suspicions about Chrollo's motives. Speaking of him, he had left her unattended and bored.

So, she mulled over his pitiful answer. Storm delayed flights pushed back their departure to tomorrow afternoon, leaving them a whole day to waste. When she looked to him for a rational idea, he had told her, "Treat today like a vacation."

How the hell was she meant to do that? Even if she avoided thinking about their conversation in the car, this was _not_ a vacation. Sure, Virgil would probably be too stiff to move, and Sybil had to be injured from fighting Hisoka, but there were more Fan Shi. Although, with the recent weather, the other Fan Shi would have been delayed too. Still! Not a vacation! Though it did sound nice to pretend everything was fine- and he acted like _she_ lived in denial.

Lan fiddled with her phone, contemplating whether she should call Auntie back yet. She had called again… And now they were on their way to Anchi… Nemmi shuffled on her shoulder as she pocketed her phone, too nervous, if a bit guilty, to make the call. Maybe surprising her would be better? She inwardly cringed, imagining the worried lecture Auntie would give her. Especially when she asked for directions to that hellhole.

Her devil chose the perfect time to reappear, distracting as ever.

She raised an eyebrow at Chrollo, his newest shirt the more expensive version of the one he'd had on when they arrived. "Other shirt not nice enough?" she asked, deciding she liked him in dark colors. She was such a sucker for high contrast. In his case that meant pale skin and black clothes.

"Not quite," he said, glancing around. He was up to something. She… She hoped it would be a pleasant surprise. She hadn't been lying when she said she wanted to believe him. The way he acted, how charming, how almost romantic, he could be, she didn't want it to be a lie.

"You should get a heavier coat." She tried to ignore the curious look he gave her. "It'll be colder up in the mountains near the compoun- house." Without Nen, he'd probably be freezing. She would rather pick one up here than stick around Kou-Ang longer than necessary, and her coats wouldn't fit him- though how she wished they would, because she had a few from her goth days that would look divine on him.

He stared at her before shrugging off her concern. "I don't need one." Her lips parted as she almost snapped at him for the quick dismissal, stopping when she saw amusement in his eyes. She pretended to pout, her hands on her hips as she glared at him, while fighting back a smile at his bizarre humor. He raised his eyebrow like he wanted her to explain why he would ever need a coat in the mountains. The entirely faked perplexation on his face, she had to bite her lip to keep from scoffing- or, maybe, laughing. When she opened her mouth to dramatically complain, he placed a finger on her lips to shush her, smiling slightly as he said, "I'm joking, of course. Lead the way."

Over something so stupid, her cheeks flushed. He wasn't allowed to flirt back! Especially after he admitted, essentially, that he liked her. A turn of events there… She believed him, too. Not because he assured her of it, repeated it, promised it, nor even his expression and tone as he did so.

It'd been his confusion.

He wanted her around, wanted her to join the Phantom Troupe, but he wouldn't give her an ultimatum, wouldn't force her to choose… Anything. The Troupe. Him. Hisoka. He cared, had a preference, but he didn't try to shove a decision onto her. In fact, he wasn't sure if she _should_ join the Phantom Troupe on the off chance him liking her somehow interfered with the Spider. Yet he _still_ asked her to join because he truly wanted her to. He seemed to be trying to justify his feelings just in case they somehow caused an issue with the Spiders. She didn't understand his reasoning completely, but, without a single doubt, she saw that he loved his Troupe above all else.

Lanfen's arm brushed his as she passed him, walking towards the coat section. She already saw that he cared for his Troupe members. Just, the realization that he was capable of loving something, let alone other people, was… Bizarre, honestly.

Nemmi screeched in her ear when that thought ended with _and I do like bizarre_.

Was it wrong that she still liked him? Even after he confirmed he'd been trying to manipulate her? He was just so… He eternally adored his Spiders, could love them as much as she loved her animals, Nemmi, and Auntie, yet he could callously kill anyone in the way, innocent bystanders no exception. The coldness, the cruelty in the missions he'd masterminded, it contradicted with the tenderness of his touch, the understanding he showed her. These contradictory similarities were the reason he wanted her to join the Troupe…

Her feet froze in place. Chrollo almost bumped into her at her abrupt stop, his hand resting on her shoulder as he followed her eyes. Instead of delivering any dire news, or having some sort of crisis, Lanfen pulled away to make a beeline to a rack of novelties- children's accessories, considering the gimmicky designs in an otherwise 'classy' store. Within two seconds, she whipped around, Nemmi tucking his head under his wing with secondhand embarrassment.

"I found you something," she said, holding out a ridiculous skull-and-angel-wing print bandana. With crosses, too. It was absolutely appalling in every way, and _exactly_ something she would wear. Anything as a distraction from whirlwind thoughts- and if today was meant to be fun, then they'd be competing for lamest joke. Without missing a beat, Chrollo took it and began tying it around his head to model it. His blank face combined with the ugly bandana… She covered her mouth, trying to hide a few giggles at the illustrious leader of the Phantom Troupe wearing an edgy banner of teenage rebellion. "If I'd known you'd," she sputtered, trying to bite back embarrassing giggles, covering her mouth, "I'd have grabbed the smiley face one."

He didn't say anything in response, his willingness to go along with her completely childish 'idea' enough to show his amusement. He slipped the bandana off and took a step closer. Brushing her hair to the side, he began tying the bandana around her head instead. His knuckles brushed across her cheek to gently guide her eyes to his. Her giggling tapered off when she realized she didn't mind this attention. She wouldn't mind more. "It suits you," he said as he stepped back. "It even matches your outfit."

"Don't pretend your jacket didn't come from the same biker store back in Devana," she said in mock offense, hiding slight mortification. How quickly her thoughts devolved. She shouldn't want to sleep with him. Nope. Didn't matter if he was incredibly hot- and never mind the sweet caress that could so easily fool her into thinking he cared. After admitting he'd been using her to get at Hisoka, she shouldn't want him anywhere near her, but… He was not making this easy. She pulled the bandana down, so it was loose around her neck, mumbling "coat," as she began pacing away again.

Nemmi chattered on her shoulder the entire way, indignant over the disgusting high-school-sweetheart flirting going on between them.

"I know," she muttered under her breath as Chrollo looked over his options. _It won't last_. That's what Nemmi wanted her to understand. They were just pretending, after all. Pretending that their issues didn't exist to just enjoy each other's company, if only for one tenuous day of peace in the chaos.

 _Damn_ did Chrollo look good in long swishy coats, though. Lanfen shifted her weight, arms over her chest as she looked away, Chrollo definitely reading her like one his stupid books. He was doing this on purpose. The deliberate contact, the light mood, he wanted her to play pretend for a reason. Likely a manipulative reason. But, if she could see that, she knew to not take this too far, right? So, humoring this might be okay, for a while.

Nemmi's fluffed feathers deflated in defeat; he would let her enjoy herself instead of interrupting with rational concerns every two seconds. He still clicked his beak when another thought crossed her mind: would she still like Chrollo when he regained his Nen and resumed his duties as the head of the Spider? She said it herself; he was terrifying. Right now, it was easy to ignore how deadly he could be because that's what he wanted. But with the curse lifted? Back to full frightening status. Could she trust him to not kill her?

Yes, her brain unhelpfully answered. Yet, out of her options, she would rather take her chances with Chrollo than Hisoka. If she joined the Phantom Troupe, proved she wasn't a detriment or a threat to it, Chrollo would care for her like he did every other member. But she was afraid of being trapped. She didn't know the rules of the Phantom Troupe, only that Chrollo took them very seriously. She didn't have that sort of dedication. Not to rules. Sure, they could protect her from Hisoka, but if she couldn't dedicate herself to their rules then she'd be a liability. Chrollo probably saw that. He loved them. He wouldn't risk-

"Lanfen."

Her eyes snapped from the floor to his face.

"Do you need anything else?" Chrollo asked with outstanding patience. She should stop zoning out while fretting. For today, at least.

She glanced at the coats, resisting the urge to add another to the collection. "I have some back ho-" she cut herself off, eyes wide as she prayed he didn't catch that. He raised an eyebrow because he didn't have the attention span of a goldfish. He'd been listening. Carefully. "So, let's go."

She tried- and failed- to dismiss the slip-up by walking towards the registers. When he caught her wrist, she stopped, aiming an offended look at him to hide the fear of explaining. Especially because of the incredulous expression on his face. But he seemed to be silently calling her a dumbass and she didn't- Oh. Oh!

"We're taking it!" she burst out- in Anchian, because odds were no one around them spoke it, and she wasn't _that_ stupid. In her excitement, she nearly bounced. She wasn't used to hanging out with morally corrupt people that didn't think twice about stealing. Auntie would absolutely _hate_ to hear how often she stole stuff while out by herself. Chrollo would be Auntie's second worst nightmare- a certain clown stealing first place. Unless she somehow found out he was the leader of the Phantom Troupe. _Then_ he would be her absolute worst nightmare.

"Nemmi," she pointed to the security tag on the coat, "go with Chrollo somewhere more hidden." The bird did his equivalent of pouting. He did not want to help his new nemesis. "After that, do whatever you want to cause a distraction." He perked up. "But don't get Chrollo in trouble," she added, Nemmi looking to the side like he totally didn't plan on it. Silly crow. "Meet you up front," she said, hands in her pockets as she left them to do the actual dirty work.

A few strangely long minutes later, Chrollo rejoined her, a full bag suspiciously in hand. He said nothing about his little shopping spree when she looked at him expectantly. Beating down her curiosity about the bag, she briefly wondered how he convinced Nemmi to clip more security tags than necessary.

Glass shattering as it hit tile, light bulbs bursting the next second, she rolled her eyes. Always one for a show. They walked out as Nemmi caused his chaos, the entire store terrified by some invisible specter wreaking havoc at the jewelry counters. Another moment later, Nemmi landed on her shoulder, a muffled squawk drawing her attention. With a sigh, she held out her hand, expecting a present. Nemmi dropped a sparkling watch onto her palm.

As she stuffed the watch into her pocket, Chrollo asked, "Does your Nen typically steal things without being ordered to do so?"

"Just shiny things," she grumbled. At least this gift wasn't covered in blood… It was probably the second best watch he'd ever stolen, too. "Where to next?"

* * *

Lan poked at the cut on her thigh- courtesy of bug-bastard- the scab washed away in the shower. An incredibly blissful shower with hot water to finally rid her of the grim the rain had both created and failed to clean. Infinitely better than the public-restroom-sink-bath she'd taken earlier. Waiting for Chrollo to go first had felt like an eternity- that she should have used to call Auntie but, again, she chickened out.

She glanced in the mirror before digging through her pile of clothes to begin redressing.

The answer to 'where to next' had been a hotel. As in the executive suite on the top floor of an insanely expensive hotel. Money that she certainly didn't have, but why pay for anything while traveling with mister pickpocket extraordinaire? At some point during his solo shopping spree, he'd grabbed a credit card. They baited the hotel's front desk employee by asking for a far cheaper room. The second the receptionist had logged onto the computer, Nemmi did what he did best: break stuff to cause a distraction. A broken glass table, a few lights, and a strategically selected security camera, and Chrollo had plenty of time to reassign them to the lap of luxury.

After forgoing her vest and long-sleeve shirt to wear just her tank-top, she pulled on her jeans. Nemmi would have a conniption if she didn't relieve him of babysitting duty soon.

When she walked back into the bedroom- the suite had multiple rooms, making it the absolute nicest place she'd ever stayed- she found Chrollo sitting on the edge of the bed, reading from his phone instead of a book, the glow lighting his face. She tilted her head to the side at his _latest_ outfit. Such a completely, devastatingly handsome smartass. Dressed to the nines again, he wore a suit that so reminded her of their conversation in Yorknew. It answered what had been in the bag, but why became a more important question.

"I feel underdressed for whatever you're scheming."

The glimmer in his eyes before he pocketed his phone, she felt like she should be more nervous than excited. But, then again, she enjoyed this brand of petty mischief. Chrollo stood, brushing out the wrinkles in his suit. Nemmi hopped at her feet, desperately vying for attention because she most certainly added a little horny to her current list of feelings- disgustingly Hisoka-like, she realized, but Chrollo had no business dressing up like this when he already looked so good. He snatched the mysterious shopping bag off the floor, dropped it on the bed before digging through it. The moment he produced a dress, held it out to her, she raised her eyebrows with absolute suspicion.

"We have a reservation at one of the finest restaurants in Cenvien," he said, the reservation part suspect. Definitely committing a crime of some sort.

She took the dress, inspecting it before agreeing to go to dinner in it. Sleeveless, high-collared, black with gold accents… It reminded her of what she had worn in Yorknew the night of the auction. The main difference was this one was a little bit less modest, no cardigan to cover her arms- though her tattoos wouldn't show too much- and a high slit on one side. She bit her lip to hold back a stray smile. Somehow, this charming idiot remembered the styles she liked _and_ managed to convince her into something sexy. No wonder he got away with murder.

"Okay, Chrollo." She turned, on her way back to the bathroom to change. "I'll play along."

* * *

Her brows pinched together in absolute concentration and frustration. Chrollo watched in amusement as she flipped the pages again, stubbornly refusing to either ask for a translation or work her phone out of her bra to do it herself. (The dress, unfortunately, didn't have pockets, but it definitely fit her well. The high slit exposing skin nearly to her hip, she flaunted it earlier, bare leg crossed over the other to purposely show skin. She even pretended to absently fix it to draw his attention. A shame she was now sitting across from him, out of view and reach.)

He was certainly indulging himself again. The entire day was dedicated to indulgence in foolish things, truthfully. If these were the final moments they shared, then at least they were enjoyable.

"I don't recognize anything…" she mumbled under her breath, tablecloth bunching the only sign she was talking with an equally frustrated Nemmi. A knocked over vase in the hotel room showed how much the bird appreciated his antics today. At least Lanfen was having fun. "How many languages are on here?"

"Several," he answered, her eyes shooting to him. The glare, she knew he found this entertaining. The pretentious restaurant boasted to have the most refined menu of the most exquisite, authentic dishes from the most exotic and obscure cultures. It was the type of place the rich frequented to flaunt their cash as much as their supposed intelligence. That said, they butchered every culture with mistranslations or switched traditional ingredients to better match Cenvienese palate.

Plenty of willing patrons to pay for their meal. Although, Lanfen would enjoy a 'dine and dash' as much as him pickpocketing a fortune, so they might do that instead.

"I can order for you, if you'd like," he politely offered, Lanfen's glare fading with nerves. "You're selectively vegetarian." They'd dined together enough by this point that he'd noticed a pattern. "You tend to interrogate the staff or search the internet to confirm the animals' humane treatment before slaughter." If she couldn't confirm or disliked what she saw, she didn't order anything with meat. Once she had sourly left after checking her phone, claiming she suddenly wasn't hungry. He'd been curious why her mood plummeted, so he bothered piecing the information together. It's not like he had much else to do after she had left him alone.

She opened and closed her mouth, flustered that she found nothing to say. Him noticing an insignificant fact, bothering to remember it, she didn't know how to react to the attention she'd received. Adorable, in a sad way. Offer her even the smallest amount of attention, the slightest bit of affection, and she melted. She really was easily manipulated by kindness.

"Trust me?" he asked only half-teasingly, the waiter approaching with the wine he'd ordered when they had arrived. She glanced at the menu again before sighing, nodding her head in defeat.

After placing their orders, Lanfen stared at the wine in her glass, creating a whirlpool instead of drinking. "And you," she began, concentration apparent, "don't eat pork?"

"Not quite." He smiled slightly, regardless of the incorrect assumption. She was trying to reciprocate his attention. "Why order from one of the few livestock Meteor City raises?" He could afford to be picky, now.

She abandoned her wine, leaning forward. "Because pigs will eat most anything." All meat in Meteor City carried a certain risk for diseases and parasites, given the conditions, but, if you were starved, you'd take what you could get. Should he tell her starved pigs occasionally killed people to eat them? Or that insects, pigeons, and small reptiles were far more common proteins? This wasn't exactly a polite dinner topic. Then again, she might eat primly, but her other manners were suspect. Anything beat Phinks' graphic telling of the exploding cadaver story. "Goats would probably do well enough there, too," she added, now contemplating what else could tolerate living in a trash heap out in the desert. Most of her thoughts she mumbled to herself as she narrowed in on what biological advantages would be necessary to thrive in such conditions to the point of becoming a semi-stable food source.

He wondered, briefly, what she would think of his homeland. Would it be with disgust, pity, or some combination? Would her opinion of him change? The moment she mumbled about lizards and insects, not a hint of distaste in her voice and expression, he knew she understood selectivity was out of the question.

He didn't feel like continuing on the subject of Meteor City, allowing her to finish considering the possibilities on her own. He tried the wine, a bitter note not his favorite. He'd stolen better.

"You don't drink?" he asked when she returned to fiddling with her glass, staring into the bottom like she was seeking life's meaning in it. Her inquisitiveness slipped away the longer she stared, replaced with melancholy.

"It's just… been a while, I guess." She took a tentative sip, nose wrinkling, before setting the glass back down. "Fancy wines weren't usually on the menu, though," she half-heartedly joked, bitter smile pulling at her lips. "Hard to get black-out drunk off wine with it's bad taste and a Nen-user's tolerance level."

His brows pushed together slightly. He had been _that_ drunk precisely once in his life- teenaged Chrollo was an undeniable idiot at times. He hated every moment he remembered, and was horribly embarrassed by everything he didn't, because his friends, the Troupe not yet formed, did. Apparently, he became clingy and sentimental. For someone that so enjoyed control, he couldn't imagine Lanfen drinking to the point of blacking out, but that is certainly what her tone and expression implied. Even if alcohol clouded inhibition, drinking that much wasn't necessary if she just wanted to be more 'fun.' He didn't mind getting buzzed on occasion, but even the heaviest drinkers in the Troupe rarely reached the point of passing out while having fun; just, perhaps, while drowning misery. So why? Because it was self-destructive, he realized. He shouldn't be surprised by a past drinking problem, or even a drug habit. The risk rewarded her with something. Negative attention was also still attention with Lanfen. Despite understanding that, despite the clear regret she had towards her past choices… The fact it was her saddened him. Again, in Meteor City, he'd seen were that path ended.

Maybe she'd understand them better than he thought.

She jolted, back straight, near panic on her face. "Are we on a date?" she blurted out, the realization striking her like lightning, eyes sparkling at the idea.

It hadn't necessarily been his intention to frame it that way, but, he supposed, it was an accurate, if juvenile, description. Regardless, he smiled. "We are." He didn't mind calling this a date. Today _was_ for indulgence in forbidden temptations, after all.

* * *

The window awkwardly squeaked as she opened it. Lan lingered, staring out at the darkening streets of Cenvien as cool air rushed in.

She had made her decision.

She'd do it. She'd sleep with him, because, at this point, fuck it. She might be dead within the week by the Fan Shi. Hisoka made it obvious he'd claimed her entire life down to who she could sleep with. She could pettily sleep with Chrollo just to prove that bastard's assumptions right and his control fake. Though, she didn't want him to be right about anything. Acting out on past ghosts and recent mistakes was a terrible reason to commit this mistake.

So, maybe, she had decided because of today's carefree nature. Because of the childish delusion that everything was fine, if only for today. No matter how enjoyable, she wasn't foolish enough to further involve herself with Chrollo over the events of a single day.

What she truly needed to know was how deep this went. Was it just infatuation and lust clouding her judgement with schoolgirl daydreams? Or was he worth pursuing in spite of the risks? There were so many holes in her logic, so many unknowns amid the few facts she had. How did she even begin to decide something so pivotal that it would haunt her until her death? So pivotal it may determine her lifespan?

Chrollo wouldn't betray the Spider. A double-edged sword, for she would have his fierce devotion if she joined, his distant care if she declined. He didn't seem keen on deciding her fate for her, either. While she adored having that control, appreciated that he gave her the choice when he could use force, it made things so much more difficult. Right now, she didn't see herself as Spider material. She had no idea how they functioned, the all-important rules they followed, nor if the others would accept her. The Phantom Troupe was a terrifying unknown. An unknown that Chrollo would likely explain if she only asked… Yet, if not their protection, then whose? Hisoka would kill her. Eventually.

The one thing she could think to try… Chrollo, she needed to know if she could trust him with her life. She needed to feel secure with him during times of extreme vulnerability. Incidentally, she could see if she wanted him as a more permanent lover or a friend or a leader.

A quick way to test all of this would be to sleep with him, right? That it wasn't _just_ hormones and stress baiting her… Right?

Nemmi squawked as he paced a trail through the carpet. She shook her head, wringing the hem of her shirt. He hoped she would change her mind. But she needed to do something, even if that something just ended up being her seeking comfort and distraction from Chrollo. Again. Playing pretend was a cheap balm to the burns of a world set aflame; she wanted to ignore the pain a while longer. He seemed to be in an obliging mood, so…

She subtly pointed to the window, ordering Nemmi to go get what she wanted or else. Without consideration to his final complaints, she turned around, stalking across the room with purpose.

Chrollo sat innocently on the couch, reading. Like her, he had changed clothes after their dinner escapade. Back in a black button-up, arm draped across the back of the couch as he relaxed, loose hair falling in front of his eyes, cross tattoo peeking out… A picture of calm she wanted to ruin.

She carefully sat down next to him, invading his personal space as her leg pressed against his. His eyes flickered to her for a second before returning to the book. She felt flustered, focus on her knees because this was so much easier while drunk with people that meant absolutely nothing to her.

She'd… She'd never really felt this way about someone. At least not this strongly. She never gave herself the chance to get this close to someone; excluding Hisoka, the last time she had any romantic feelings for a partner she cut all contact immediately- mostly because she realized Yun wouldn't survive in a world with Nen, that she'd hate her without her persona of lies to hide behind. Chrollo was terrifying. What if this really wasn't just infatuation? Or what if she was just doing this because Hisoka upset her? Or what if she was just mistaking basic kindness for something more? Or what if this was somehow part of Chrollo's manipulation?

As she obviously fretted, fingers curled into tight fists to keep from picking apart her shirt, he moved his arm to rest it across her shoulders, the gesture purely meant to be comforting. Maybe. Her heart fluttered with more than nerves at how heartbreakingly sweet he could be while fearing it was all just an act.

But she still wanted more, if only to bury overwhelming emotions in physical affection and pleasure. Today was all about pretending everything was fine, right? He'd indulge that delusion in every way, right?

Discarding her last scrap of inhibition and rationality, she placed her hand over his to lift it from her shoulder and set it on her knee. His attention pulled from reading, he stared at her hand on his. She guided his hand up her thigh when he didn't make a move. Her heart pounded when he didn't pull away but instead broke free of her guidance to ghost his fingers along her inner thigh. She spread her legs slightly, offering more. A flash of heat warmed her whole body when his fingers brushed higher. She wished she still had the dress on…

She leaned into him, chest pressed to his arm as her fingertips brushed over his cheek, convinced him to turn his head. The snap of his book closing nearly startled her. He blindly set it aside as her fingers tangled in crow-black hair to pull herself closer. Her lips almost met his, but hesitance found her in the last second. So much easier drunk…

His forehead against hers, grey eyes burning, his breath tickling her lips as he very seriously asked, "Are you afraid to make a final decision?"

She easily understood what he meant. That he knew that initiating this now, if she ended up regretting this, she would blame him instead of confronting her own mistakes. She stubbornly challenged him back. Her hand groped to find his, fumbled to drag it to her hip, failed to distract him by pressing her body into his. The warmth of his skin from beneath expensive silk, she distracted herself more.

"Lanfen," he whispered, her name on lips teasingly brushing hers enough to break her already hazy resolve.

She kissed him desperately. Her fingers tugged at his hair as her other hand gripped his shirt collar, all in an effort to pull him closer. He dragged her into his lap, his fingers following the curve of her spine as the other rested on her hip, his lips never breaking away from hers. Her tongue begged, her teeth grazing his lower lip when licking didn't convince him. She felt a smirk as he enjoyed needy passion, did everything to make her wait instead of immediately giving into passionate chaos. The moment he parted his lips, her tongue ran over his, explored his mouth. A soft sound of pleasure rumbled in his chest, an equally quiet moan in her throat. With that encouragement, her kiss quickly lost gentle care for fervent abandon. Focus on the physical, that's all she wanted. Without looking, through tugging and trial and error, she undid his shirt buttons, slid silky fabric from his shoulders. As she felt over his shoulders and pecs, his hand slipped under her shirt. A shiver went up her spine as his fingers ghosted over bare skin ever so gently. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth, his hand on the small of her back holding her close. The other hand drifted from her hip to grab her backside, making her swallow a squeak of surprise.

She eventually had to pull away to properly breathe. Her head spinning with the start of sensory overload and lacking oxygen... She could almost forget everything else. Lanfen ran her fingers down his chest, his skin warm under her touch, his breathing matching hers. She wanted to forget everything else. She wanted to smother her misery with him.

Chrollo's hands left her back, warmth and distraction quickly missed. He set them on either side of her face, gently cupping her cheeks as he brought her eyes level with his. Even without speaking a word, the way he looked at her, beheld her with something akin to admiration, like she was something valuable, she adored the attention. She leaned into his hand as his thumb stroked her cheek. She almost felt tears burning her eyes.

After a few soft moments of savoring affection, she ran her fingertips down his arms, extra careful to avoid injuries, until she rested her hands on his. She wanted more of this attention. She wanted him to keep looking at her so softly, tenderly. She wanted more feather-light touches and fingers ghosting over her skin, appreciating every part of her. Her. Not an object. She took his hands in hers, gently guided them from her face to her shoulders and lower. As his hands covered her breasts, heat crawled to her skin. She pressed against his palms, urging him to take command again. The second she released him, his hands dropped from her chest, one at her hip, fingers curled into her waistband to brush skin, the other lifting the hem of her shirt, silently asking for her to remove it. Lanfen eagerly pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Then she frowned. A quiet chuckle as he looked at her, well distracted by something ridiculous.

"It's not nice to laugh when a girl's stripping down for you." She pouted, smile then ruining her fake irritation. Weirdo.

"Florescent purple?" Of all the things in the world to make Chrollo Lucilfer laugh, it had to be her damn bra color. So what if it clashed with her otherwise dark, muted color palette? Yet, he seemed so relaxed, and, maybe, happy. He was certainly not allowed to be cute. Not in a moment like this, where she was already throwing caution away for pleasure.

"I like purple."

"It's a horrendous shade." His finger traced along top edge of her bra, teasing skin.

"Well," she huffed, smiling as she flicked one of his orb-like earrings, "these are hideous." And in the way. How did he expect her to nip at his ears with those ridiculous things? "You don't see me laughing."

"But I like them," he teased, Lan's lips on his interrupting him. She liked this playful side of him. She liked a lot of things about him. When they parted, his eyes half-lidded, his expression shifted as he slipped his fingers under her bra, between her breasts, tugging at fabric. "Take it off." The seductive, commanding tone he took left her brain stunned. The way dark eyes drifted over her, smoldering, appraising…

Heat shot through her, a needy ache twisting her abdomen. She swallowed down sudden nerves, fingers curling around the bottom of her bra as his hand felt down her bare side. She slowly pulled it off, Chrollo watching as her breasts were freed for his admiration. Lan blindly tossed now useless fabric aside. She set her hands on his shoulders, unsure. Usually, drunk hands would be fumbling to grab her, and she'd be so drunk she didn't care about awkwardness, but… They were both very sober right now. His hands slowly felt up the slight curves of her torso, a content sigh leaving her lips as she tried to forget fretting. She didn't need more stress from rational thoughts. She relaxed under his touch. He was going slow on purpose. To torture her, probably, or simply because he liked to admire things. And that _thing_ happened to be her right now. She should appreciate his attention while she had it. 

Hands cupped over her bare chest before he lightly squeezed, fingers and palms then massaging her breasts. It was the first time in a while that someone fondling her felt welcomed. When his thumbs rubbed circles over her nipples she sucked in a breath. Very intimate… This was someone she would see again, someone she was working with, not a one-night disappearing act. What the hell was she doing? They would see each other in the morning and she would have to face the consequences. Still, this didn't feel as wrong as it should. The guilty thought of waking up beside him crossed her mind, pleasant and unwanted.

"Does your pain insensitivity affect your sense of touch?" he asked, completely killing the moment. Or she thought it would have, but it surprised her more than anything. No one usually bothered asking stuff like that. Mostly because few people knew it was a concern.

"Not really," she mumbled, trailing her fingers over his forearms to his biceps, distracted by him playing with her breasts. All touch felt almost overwhelming and foreign with prolonged absence. Not sensing pain, that just added another layer to that. "I can feel pressure," she answered breathlessly as he lightly pinched a nipple, rolled the bud in his fingers. Her face felt hot as he took in her reaction. Most of her pleasure was probably mental, but, if he wanted ideas of what she liked, she'd provide. He released her, no longer playing with her breasts. "As well as temperature, texture, and pleasure, so please keep going."

She pouted when his hands left her chest. She grabbed a wrist to put at least one hand back, but he brought her lips to his instead. Even if she could potentially kiss him for hours, her mouth eventually left his, trailed kisses to his neck to find a nice spot to claim. He felt over her back, soft caresses giving rise to goosebumps. Stuff like that would be the death of her. When she nipped at his skin, he began playing with her hair, a pleased groan in the back of his throat at a second nip followed by her tongue massaging the light red mark. She chose another spot, the hand tangled in her hair urging her on. She continued down his neck to defined collarbones. After leaving more little marks quick to disappear, she kissed under his jaw while her hand wandered to traced lines in sculpted muscle, found fading scars on pale skin.

"Lanfen," he whispered, name on his lips making her breath catch, "undo my pants." Her lips left his neck, her fingers feeling down his chest, over his pecs to his abs before obediently fulfilling his request. He sighed in relief, pants growing too tight. She rested her hand on his groin, feeling his erection under her palm, certainly sizing him up.

Inhibition kept her from complete impulse. Usually, by this point, she'd be completely stripped down with her partner as they drunkenly tried to fuck. Not really an option to start that. Damn did Nemmi need to hurry up… She wanted Chrollo to take her _now,_ tension building between her legs. She fiddled with the waistband of his underwear, debating what she could do to buy time. Which would amount to grabbing his dick because she didn't want to make an ass of herself because she'd never really given a guy oral because she never had to because she could usually convince drunk guys to skip that because she didn't know how and didn't really want to do that for them but-

"We're in no rush." He took her hand, lips ghosting over her knuckles before he placed it back on his chest. Her face felt like it was on fire. "You asked Nemmi to fetch something, didn't you?"

She frowned. "How-?"

"The crow-shaped hole in the window screen."

His damn smirk made her stutter, "O-oh, there was a screen, huh? I just, ah…" Chrollo looked much too curious for someone that knew _exactly_ what was going on, and Lanfen's face got even hotter with embarrassment. So much for trying to be sneaky by not leaving the room. She glanced to side, drumming her fingers on his chest, unable to meet his eyes. "Yeah, I'm going to be honest. He's getting condoms."

"You… really did send your Nen to get condoms?"

"I bet you do frivolous things with _your_ Nen." Whatever it was… He brushed the hair away from her face, his hand resting on her cheek again as he returned her eyes to his. She eagerly added, "Unless you meant you already have some. Because if you do, go get them." _And fuck me into the bedsheets_. She was beginning to realize it'd been a while since she had sex. Like, a long while. Getting laid wasn't as important as the Hunter Exam, the training that followed, the… It'd been a _real_ long while.

"Regrettably, I don't," he said, marveling at her enthusiasm. Or wanting to drill her on her Nen's conditions to fulfill a complex task. Or really wanting to pound into her. Hard to tell with him. He leaned forward, kissing along her jaw, saying, "But, as I said, I'm in no hurry," between kisses. His lips against her ear, he whispered, "I want to enjoy you while I can."

Lan scooted closer, tangling her fingers in his hair as he kissed her neck. As his teeth grazed skin, her hand ran over his back, memorizing the feel of his skin, how his muscles moved, and the heat radiating from his body. He was so surprisingly, pleasantly warm… His kisses trailed to her chest, between her breasts, and she struggled to keep patient. She tugged at his hair to get his attention. Her lips collided with his, both moaning into the kiss, passion momentarily overtaking restraint and modesty.

When they parted to breathe, Lanfen decided she was officially too warm, her remaining clothes getting too restrictive.

Lan escaped his arms and lap to stand, immediately unbuttoning her pants, very aware of his eyes watching with interest. She carefully pulled them from her hips, not quite ready to lose her underwear. The moment she stepped out of crumpled pants and moved to return to his lap, he stopped her by resting his hands on her hips. He felt down her thighs, relishing bare skin. A hand moved to rest on her hip, the other brushing over her stomach as he leaned forward. Soft lips left a trail of kisses over her stomach, her legs almost weak when he reached the waistband of her underwear. He pulled away, stormy eyes wandering over her. The hand on her hip drifted, grabbed her backside before inviting her forward. He coaxed her to again spread her legs to straddle his lap. Fingers traced her inner thigh before shifting, rubbing along her through her underwear. His hand pressed into her back to make her lean in, her hands on his shoulders. His breath hot on her exposed skin, his mouth covered her nipple as his tongue flicked it. A needy moan slipped out as she knotted her fingers in his hair, urged him on. Fingers teased slipping into her underwear, stroking through fabric when she leaned into his touch, nearly ready to beg. His hand instead went to her breast as he gave a wet nipple a final lick. He left a trail of kisses to her other breast, tongue swirling around the nipple as his fingers toyed with the other. She sighed heavily, panting for no reason other than want. She'd never had to wait so damn long. And he was building up the moment, teasing her like this. If he came and passed out… That'd be unforgivable. She pulled at his hair harder, her enthusiasm earning a pleased groan from him but not his attention. If he was going to be a jerk, fine. Her free hand dipped into her underwear only for him to pull away. She whined indignantly as he captured her wrist, held it at her side, clearly wanting to deprive her.

His eyes slid over her body, his breaths heavy. His hair was already a mess from her, locks every which way. The light pink hickeys forming on his neck and chest stood out against pale skin. He looked ridiculously attractive while losing his veneer of calm. She wondered how many had the honors of seeing him like this.

Chrollo grabbed her hips to pull her forward, a hand then cupping her ass. A gasp escaped her as he picked her up, pressed their bodies together. He set her on her feet, not pausing as he dropped his unbuttoned pants. Her face hot, she hooked her thumbs in her underwear, too caught up in watching him undress to get further herself. A brief touch gave her a good idea of what to expect, but she wanted to hold… He'd been teasing her, after all. She stepped forward to close the small distance, uninterested in stripping herself down now. Instead, she swatted his hands out of the way, a smirk her permission to strip him of his last clothes. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking his length, fingers not quite long enough to touch each other while around him. Her face burned more, her legs pressing together. He’d be a tight fit. 

He sighed as she continued, as she bit her lip, contemplating if she wanted to try to do a bit more than touch. He tugged at her hair to tilt her head, his lips quickly against hers, pleased sounds escaping them both as her fingers played.

Eventually, she let go, done teasing. She stepped back, dropping her underwear to the ground, his eyes taking her in for a moment turned eternity. It wasn't a good enough view, apparently. "Bed," was all he could force out as he reached for her again. He kept hold of her long enough to carry her to the bed and effortlessly throw her to the middle with a bounce. A bit shocked by the reminder of how strong the man was even while under a curse, she didn't react as he joined her. His body on top of hers, his knee slightly parted her legs, threatened to rub into her. She wanted the friction he kept from her… His lips captured hers in a heated kiss. Like an idiot, she enticed him, wrapped a leg around his waist to invite him closer, hopeful. He grunted into the kiss, his hand gripping her ass to pull her flush against him. As divine a moment as it would have been for him to thrust into her to move beyond foreplay, she balked. Want it as she may… Her lips left his, a hand pushing on his chest.

He reluctantly let her leg slip from around him. "Does it intend to come back today?" he asked with an edge of frustration, his lips against her skin as he kissed from her neck to her collarbones. He gave a rougher nip to her chest, Lan sucking in a breath as her nails grazed his shoulder.

"Ultimatum," she mumbled, running her hand through his hair when he sucked on her skin, ran his tongue over the area. She might like the slicked back look but that came at the price of hair gel; a shame because he had such silky hair. And Nemmi wouldn't dare. Not when she made it clear she would be having sex with Chrollo no matter the consequences. The last thing she needed was to get pregnant with his devil spawn, or catch something, or… A hand slipped between her thighs again. Her grip on his hair tightened, a moan in the back of her throat as he bit a little harder, his hand moving against her. Her reaction encouraged him to continue. She would definitely have some hickeys of her own. More prominent then any mark she left on him, too.

"Your subconscious understands the danger I represent," he mumbled, teasing relentless, loving nips to her skin driving her mad. "I wonder why you're choosing to ignore common sense. Is it because you've divided your self-control with your Nen? Or simply because you like taking risks?"

Was it wrong that she didn't mind him dissecting her Nen abilities while fooling around? Just, his voice... He could ramble about whatever he liked. "Yes," she answered in a breathless whisper to keep him talking. She didn't have the brainpower to actually consider his words enough to formulate a proper lie to avoid giving too much away. As much as she adored the odd gentleness of his earlier caresses, she wanted this to escalate into chaos. If he did something she didn't like, she could send him flying across the room no problem. She felt safe enough to throw away complete control. She… trusted him too, she supposed.

Lips pressed to her neck, she nearly felt his smirk against her skin. "Yes?" he questioned, fingers still teasing her. _Just_ teasing. It's almost like he was doing this on purpose because Nemmi was taking his sweet time. Impatient for someone in no hurry. She smiled to herself for getting him all bothered. "I don't believe you. I'm not sure the risk outweighs the reward." His fingers at her entrance, pressing lightly but pausing movement, she nodded excitedly at the prospect. Her breath caught as he finally did more than tease, one finger easily slipping into her. "Although I plan to make it a close tie."

Had she died and somehow ended up in heaven? Because she had Chrollo whispering dirty nothings in her ear while fingering her. She tugged at his hair, whispered into his ear, "What do you like, Chrollo?" Free of his eyes, she boldly added, "I'm willing to do most anything to you." _For_ you was debatable, but if he wanted to be, say, tied up or something, she'd oblige. With the pleasure he was already giving her, he deserved it returned.

His hand left her way too soon. She gave an undignified squeak when he grabbed her hips to flip her on top of him. She wanted him to touch her longer… His thumb traced over her lips before he began playing with her hair, thoughtful.

A box of condoms smacking him in the face should not have made her laugh. She covered her mouth, face red as she aimed a glare at Nemmi. The bird sat on the nightstand, cackling. Oh, he would be hearing about this later.

Chrollo's hand found her cheek to redirect her attention back to him. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her down into another passionate kiss, his lips moving fervently with hers as he pressed her body flush with his. His hand trailed down her back, fingers tracing her spine, and she moaned into the kiss, pressed her lips against his tighter. She wanted to keep going. She wanted him despite any risks. Any resistance her subconscious had fell silent, Nemmi reluctantly quiet.

Even if she might regret this in the morning, right now, this felt right.

When their lips parted, he grabbed the box from beside him, tore it open to retrieve a single condom to start the fun. She got off him, fell back onto the bed beside him, raising an arm over her head in a way she hoped looked appealing to him. She shyly peeked to watch him roll the condom over his cock, imagined him inside her again to make a fresh flush rise to her cheeks. She had high hopes.

Protection acquired, his attention returned to her. 

He sat between her legs, a hand running up her thigh. She shifted, spread her legs for him, hopefully ready. Instead of moving, he admired, hand slowly dragging over her inner thigh, fingertips pressing into soft skin. His fingers brushed higher, parting her, running through wet lips; brushing her clit, the pleasant jolt made her bite back a premature moan. She set her hand over his, pressing into his fingers, ready to beg for any sort of friction. 

Wordlessly, but with amusement, he brushed her hand aside. Then he slipped a single finger back into her, her face burning as he watched it easily disappear into her. He seemed to like what she had to offer, too... She honestly felt like she was dripping with all the waiting. 

She sucked in a breath, her back arching into his hand. A second finger stretched her just a little more, the added friction causing a hiccup in her breathing. He seemed to realize she would need a bit more time to take him comfortably. That consideration set her on fire with more than just lust. He curled his fingers as he half-removed them, hitting all the right places, stretching her just enough. A few strokes, her hips meeting his fingers, her breathing fell apart. He kept going, enjoying her reaction until she tried to touch herself again, getting desperate for more stimulation to push her over the edge. 

His fingers left her. He caught her wrist, his fingers still embarrassingly wet from her. He moved her hand, pinned it beside her. He came closer, cock at teasingly at her entrance as he leaned over her. 

“Are you ready, Lanfen?”

“Shut up,” she tried to snap, voice more of a whine. Her eyes went to side, eye contact too much. She moved her hips, tried to grind against him to convince him in. His grip on her wrist tightened, a groan caught in the back of his throat. Glancing at him, his eyes had left her face to watch her rub herself against him. A bead of sweat had formed on his brow, his lips now parted with noticeably heavier breaths. He wanted her. The dishevelment, the break in his calm, she smiled again. He did indeed look gorgeous while falling apart. To be the cause gave her a slight sense of satisfaction. 

“Rude, aren’t you,” he said instead of complying. Sadistic bastard… Usually her male partners were about done and passing out by now. Not teasing her at the cost of delaying their own pleasure. Especially not… not to ensure she was comfortable at penetration, not some time after. 

“Chrollo, please.” Cheeks on fire, but she really was ready to beg. This felt different. She didn’t understand why, wasn’t in a position to figure it out, but- “I want you.” 

A flicker of a smile, he gave in to an aggravated plea. He let go of her wrist to grip her hip, her hands on his shoulders as he shifted. Lined up with her, she prepared for a snap of his hips to bury him deep. Instead he went slow. Pushing into her bit by bit, fingertips digging into her hip, his dick stretching her as he slid in, soft moans mixed into her uneven breaths. Fully in, he leaned over her. He sighed next her ear, his face hidden as one hand cupped her cheek, his other arm supporting his weight.

He rocked his hips, setting a slow, shallow pace. She wrapped her legs around his waist, about in tears after just a minute. He’d kill her with kindness at this rate; she just wanted to be pounded into until she didn’t know where the hell she was. Was that asking too much? This- _He_ already felt so good. 

A whine slipped past her lips, her hips meeting his shallow thrusts but somehow failing to convince him to pick up the pace or thrust harder or deepen his strokes or do half-a-dozen other things besides torture her. 

“You’re,” he started, drawing a breath as she bucked her hips a little harder, “so impatient.” How he could be patient while clearly enjoying himself, made no sense. Seriously, if he came and then abandoned her, she would have no choice but kill him. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“You suck.”

“Do you want me to?”

Her skin burned more with the image of his head between her thighs. Not ready for that, even if it wasn’t a serious offer. He seemed content thrusting into her. Slowly. “Go faster,” she mumbled, trying not to sound whiny and encourage him to keep this pace. He liked control as much as her, though he also played considerate gentleman well, asking for her input and permission. Her standards were terrifyingly low… Her voice only got smaller when she added, “And a little rougher.” She wouldn’t mind this as a second round. Just, every agonizingly slow movement built up more tension than she could handle. She just wanted release, even if this high would then crash back to reality. 

A harsher thrust made her choke down further complaint. Another followed, his name tumbling from her lips as he finally agreed to cooperate. Pulling back, snapping his hips to bury himself in her again, slow pace didn’t matter as much as he slid against her walls, hit as deep as the angle allowed. Just as a moan drowned a gasp, quick thrust changing pace again, his lips met hers. Messier as he kept moving, lips breaking from hers only to return the next second, he swallowed every soft noise from her. Her arms wrapped tight around him, fingers digging into his shoulders, she could feel quiet pleasure vibrate through his chest more than hear it over unsteady breathes and movement. Every meeting of their hips felt electric, but she wanted to see stars. 

Her hand slipped, sharp nails dragging across skin. His muscles tensed, a flinch, it hurt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Chrollo-”

“I’m,” a heavy breath at her shifting, trying to look at the damage, “fine,” he reassured, calm breaking with desire. Apology or his name, he decided his patience ended there. 

He changed position, sitting up, his hands gripping her hips tight as he lifted her slightly. While not wanting to think, she stared, reminded. Black hair down, messy, cross on pale skin peeking out, his eyes caught hers as his other hand felt from her chest back to her hip before his fingers dug in. Half-lidded satisfaction as he began pulling her into each thrust- A shaky breath failing to cover a moan, she pinched her eyes closed as her fingers curled into the blanket. More thrusts in a quickened pace all hitting dead-center on a sensitive spot, she bit her lip, held back moan a needy whine. 

A half-coherent thought willfully buried, the only supposed goal she managed to meet was getting fucked by Chrollo Lucilfer. 

Tension built to a peak ready to snap, breaths short and sharp, her back arched into his hips. His pace faltered, fingertips and nails digging harshly into her hips. She peeked as he shifted one hand, his thumb rubbing her clit as his hips jerked unevenly. A quiet groan as he finished, a whispered _damn_ as he savored her under him, the friction of his fingers against her while he still stretched her had her quivering against him, desperate and pleading look on her face. Moving his hips, fingers working her over, pleasure hit her as she finally came, mind blank. Her limbs weak, brain clouded over, she rode out the high against him as he kept going, drawing out her moment, watching her melt under him. 

A moment of stillness, heavy breaths filling the silence, she closed her eyes. Motion gone, the heat prickling over her skin started to give way to cool night air. The window was still open, she absently remembered, relentless reality returning. He left her, flopping on the bed beside her, soon to leave her to freeze. They both got what they wanted; no reason for him to linger and watch the pity-party she had brewing. This was probably a mistake. 

Her eyes fluttered open when an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. His lips pressing to hers, her eyes went wide, lips failing to follow his. Briefly. As his hand rest between her shoulder blades, her body to his, she snaked her arm not pinned to his chest around him. Her lips moving lazily, tenderly, with his… 

“Do you want further distraction?” His hand trailed down her side, eyes following, taking her in again like he had just saw her for the first time instead of like he had already taken her. She had barely done anything aside from lie on her back; he shouldn’t seem so impressed, yet, maybe, she underestimated how attracted he was to her. She certainly wasn’t done with him. He could want more, too. “In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind providing that as long as you desire,” he added, voice lower, quieter. 

Wordless, she nodded. She would rather spend the night doing this than thinking of consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 1.5k words longer than the original ff.net post, so it took a bit to finish and edit to post here. Hopefully worth the wait? Honestly, I don't write too much nsfw stuff, especially beyond foreplay. This was more a challenge to myself to complete the scene and see how it goes over.
> 
> Aside from that, onto actual pertinent info and rambling facts... Chrollo, for the most part, was trying to be extra considerate during this because he 100% believes Hisoka had sex with her, likely with dubious (or possibly no) consent. God knows Hisoka would have been rough with her; seeing them interact on the train actually upset/angered him more than he dare let on. He's not about to be compared to that clown. And, you know, he does genuinely like her. Lan's standards are in the thrash, per usual. As far as male partners are concerned, she hasn't often been impressed... mostly because she picked very drunk guys while very drunk herself. The best ended up being the son of a high-ranked Bai Ze officer so... That ended before it could actually start. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Thank you to everyone that left kudos and comments!


	30. Identity: Incense

Chrollo once more contemplated getting up but failed to act on the thought. Morning light filtered through the blinds with enough strength to show he had slept in far later than he usually would. With amusement, he admitted Lanfen had managed to tire him out. Yet, as much as he had enjoyed last night…

He glanced at her hands on his chest. She pressed her forehead to his back as she held him, the rhythmic breaths tickling his skin a hint she was also awake. Hesitantly, he set his hand over hers, the first step to maybe breaking the silence. He wondered if she regretted it. Perhaps she did. Perhaps she would never wish to see him, let alone sleep with him, again. It would be easier that way. Perhaps that's why he returned her advances despite knowing how volatile her emotions were right now. A form of a self-sabotage…

Regret. Regret wasn't the word he would affix to how he felt right now. No, guilty would be more accurate. He felt as though he had committed a sin against the Phantom Troupe in getting so attached to someone outside it. They should have his complete dedication, as they were completely dedicated to the Spider, to him. Unless they were an ungrateful traitor that Chrollo had so kindly, foolishly, invited into his family. To deny the Spider was to deny himself. He had betrayed that, somehow, he was sure. He felt like the traitor, and that comparison stung.

Yet, they had saved him despite it being a betrayal to the founding tenets. They should have left him to die because the Spider was more important than the head. Still, he forgave them. Would they absolve him of his sins? They shouldn't, though they likely would, which is why he shouldn't forgive himself. Because he was their leader, he shouldn't be willingly making mistakes just because he knew they wouldn't reprimand him. The cognitive dissonance when an odd desire conflicted with his concept of the Spider always bothered him.

Chrollo lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles, seeking a distraction from his thoughts. She didn't flinch away. Despite her silence, perhaps she didn't intend to give him an easy solution by separation. Just as he refused to give her an easy solution. "Do you regret it?" he asked softly. An overwhelming majority of him didn't want her to, because he didn't regret the moments they'd shared. He just felt guilty for caring for her like she was a Spider when she wasn't.

"I don't know," she whispered, voice further muffled as she pulled herself closer, face to his back. "I don't regret being with you, its just… the timing is fucked up."

Fucked indeed. These were odd circumstances. Though the timing, the circumstances, he couldn't imagine them bonding under any other conditions. People outside of the Troupe meant nothing to him- as they rightly should. He had given himself an ultimatum to know her while simultaneously feeling alone. Without being able to contact the Troupe, with the recent losses, from death as well as betrayal, because he bothered to know her, he foolishly tried to fill that void with her. Machi was right. He was an idiot.

"I don't know how I should feel anymore," she added, words soft, honest, and, above all, exhausted. She had decided something on that train. Something the still weighed on her mind heavily. He could only hope it included avoiding Hisoka and being his instead. "I've never really spent time with someone that knows so much about me. Like you said, I usually disguise at least part of myself."

He kept her knuckles to his lips, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Were her disguises much different from his? He defined himself with the Phantom Troupe rather than as an individual- mostly because he was unsure who he was beyond that. Lanfen created characters to play, alone, unable to hide behind other people. A distorted reflection, she was so similar, and, yet, different, from him.

"It's been a while since I've spent time with someone outside of the Troupe." If he ever had, considering several members had been friends and acquaintances before the Troupe's founding- they were all he had needed and wanted. The sole exception would have been his mother… And that was nearly two decades ago.

"You're really fond of them."

He smiled slightly. "They're as much my family as my subordinates," he admitted without much thought. They were, though. A family in Meteor City needn't consist of blood relatives. In fact, more often than not, they didn't. A group of starving kids could accomplish more than an individual a day away from death. Those bonds carried to adulthood, if they survived that long. "The Spider is my life's work." The Spider was fearsome, powerful, something magnificent, despite its birth amid forgotten heaps of trash. The Spider allowed them to be something despite being nothing to the world. He wanted the Spider to become immortal, something that would exist well beyond his lifetime. And, because the Spider was so intrinsically linked to his identity, he, in a way, would transcend mortality too. They all would.

"Can I know more about the Troupe?"

As hopeful as that question made him, he asked back, "Can I know more about you?" He felt her tense in anticipation. Perhaps he should have phrased it more innocently… He didn't want to force an answer. In fact, he'd happily tell her about the Troupe regardless. If his answer convinced her to join, then he could like her without all this unnecessary guilt. "I'd like to, if you'd be willing."

A pause showed hesitance. Finally, she quietly asked, "What do you want to know about?"

"Your tattoos." After all, they both had tattoos across their backs. She just happened to have four, opposed to his one: a twelve-legged spider numbered zero, just like his significance to the group. "Specifically, their meanings to you." Continued silence prompted him to drop her hand and flip over to face her. Lanfen's eyes flickered to his before she simply rested her face on his chest, kept her arms around him. As she considered, he ran his fingers through her hair. He had a lot of pent-up affection to give, apparently- something he most certainly picked up from his mother, as most members weren't inclined to physical contact of any sort.

"What are the rules?"

"There are thirteen members. One head and twelve legs." A religious reference. His position in the Troupe, his birthday on December 25th, Lucilfer an obvious corruption of Lucifer, the reversed crosses he wore, he enjoyed the conflicting imagery of it all. Lanfen scoffed, catching on. "My orders are of the utmost priority, but my life is not. The survival of the group is placed before any individual." So long as the Spider existed, that was all that mattered. "Vacancies are filled by my choice, though I consider recommendations from the others. Defeating a current member is an alternative way to join."

"Why?" she interrupted, offended. She was under the impression he wanted to keep existing members alive, that he mourned losses, and she was right, but…

"It ultimately strengthens the Spider." He'd reasoned this through, in the beginning. "Strength dictates our survival. Upon joining the Spider, you are expected to walk alongside death, to dedicate yourself completely to us. Power is survival, and, should they be defeated, then its best if they are replaced by someone stronger. Members must accept that in order for the Spider to survive." The Spider above the individual. It also replaced a lost limb quickly. "It also eliminates a threat. The idea of an enemy becoming an ally." It made sense… In a roundabout way where no one was particularly happy. He had considered recruiting the Chain User, at one time, but absolute hatred and blinding revenge proved that impossible. The Kurta made it quite clear he wanted them wiped from existence. He returned that feeling, now.

"You don't seem fond of your own rule." _She_ wasn't fond of the rule. He didn't expect to woo her with rules; she didn't much like being controlled, especially when that control extended to her life and death. No, this would be the most difficult rule for her to accept. And, if she did, then she would be completely his.

"It's necessary." But not ideal. Perhaps not even practical in most situations. The Spider was, despite stressing the group, still made of individuals. Individuals formed attachments. The Nostrade girl had meant her fortunes to serve the living. Uvogin's requiem, Chrollo dedicated it to his soul, but mourning the dead, that was also for the living, wasn't it? The requiem was for them. For him. Paku also acted to save him, despite everything, even him, saying not to. They preferred him alive. Not only to act as their leader, but for sentimentality's sake. The rule might exist to strengthen the Spider, but, with these attachments, it might become a detriment as grudges formed against joining members.

Hisoka was like that. He made no attempt to be a part of the group, went out of his way to irritate nearly everyone in some way. He kept himself at a distance, because he never had any intention of doing more than acting the part. Chrollo should have seen his betrayal coming, but… He ignored it. Hisoka carried out orders well enough, despite often skirting the line between obedience and defiance. Chrollo also found Hisoka entertaining, in a way, with his stubborn will to fight against reason. His complete disregard for the past, living for selfish indulgence with no fragile ties to anyone… That was almost enviable. Admirable, to Lanfen.

He didn't like this subject.

"We gather at my discretion to complete jobs, though rarely do I request all of us to attend," he continued. These rules were rather benign to her. "Some members fulfill a certain role. Considering your abilities, you would do well with reconnaissance missions." They were down a member, there, without Paku. "Serious fights between members are prohibited. If no agreement can be reached, a coin toss determines the resolution." He wondered if a coin toss had decided his fate in Yorknew. There had to be resistance to Paku going through with the exchange. Maybe he just wasn't fated to die then. But then, Paku was…

"Why did you start it?"

"Why?" he repeated. Why was his least favorite question. Why did he do anything? He didn't know. Or, rather, he didn't want to know. Yet he also did. It was confusing. Knowing one's self… "Because we wanted to be something instead of nothing?" That's what he had told her before, when she had asked what he was before the Spider. But, still, that was _we_ not _I_. Did he care if he was nothing? No, obviously, since he wished the Troupe to maintain that he was nothing. That left him using the Spider as an identity. And the Spider was everything. That contradiction would just lead to another why. A why he did not want to answer.

But she deserved something in exchange for her answer, didn't she? Otherwise, she would remain silent. Then again, did he need an answer or simply want one? He didn't need to know more about her; he could already manipulate her. Curiosity, then? Or something more nefarious like intimacy?

"It was after a massacre," he said, settling on giving the circumstances. She could decide the value of an evasive answer. "Several mafia factions decided they were being cut short of the chattel assisting other syndicates in bids for power. Those same groups feared the assassins the city produced." It was one of the few ways to escape the city without simply becoming destitute in another place. He had worked for the mafia, briefly, to learn Nen. Sybil had been one of Skill Hunter's first targets. The mafia touted her ability while lamenting her lacking intelligence, and Machi knew her, so he had ample opportunity. He had left soon after obtaining it.

"An indiscriminate massacre followed, the Council of Elders' reaction stalled as they risked losing their mafia benefactors on either side dependent on their choice." Most stalled because of the personal consequences, their riches and status tied to the mafia. Others because losing mafia supply-lines would cripple the city. A few took action. One, in particular, added to the city's death toll by making bombs out of the residents, killing more residents than mafia henchmen in a haphazard attempt to 'send a message' instead of strategically destroying the enemy. He personally put an end to that farce.

Still, most of the inhabitants, despite their resourcefulness, lacked the resources to take on an army of mercenaries with black market weapons and an embargo. The death toll was high as Meteor City stubbornly went to war, the mafia factions not involved in the attack sitting back as the city itself culled the herd. The mafia would, after all, still have plenty of desperate souls to choose from even after the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives.

"After the fighting ended, the elders simply renewed their truce with the mafia." As though nothing had happened, that what little they had built in that trash heap wasn't destroyed, that the corpses piled high, bloated in the sun, picked over by scavengers, didn't exist… They all had their reasons for joining the Spider when he presented the idea. "We left soon after."

She made no comments. Not about what he told her, nor that he had avoided her actual question. Instead, she kept her face pressed to his chest, her arms holding him close. He continued playing with her hair, impulsively burying his face in it. What could she say to that? He wasn't looking for pity or reassurance. It was just a story. One he could repeat without a hint of emotion in his voice. He had become numb towards it. That's just how life was.

"Is that all?" he asked after the silence dragged on.

"For now." She pulled away, her hair slipping through his fingers as she sat up. Before she could escape, he grabbed her wrist, dropping it as soon as she understood not to end the conversation by running away. He sat up as well, resting his hand on her shoulder as his eyes traveled over her tattoos. The crow was the largest with its outstretched wings, the image centered between her shoulders. The original Nemmi, most likely. A fox sat below each wing, near mirror images if for a few subtle details. They were unlike any fox he knew of. Her inspiration for Arri, presumably. The final was a chameleon, twisting tail reaching the small of her back. He had no idea what to make of it. Except, perhaps, she related to it. "Which should I start with?" she tentatively asked when he traced the lines of the crow.

"Whichever you'd like."

"The chameleon." She trailed off, tense as her fingers curled to grip the sheets, sharp nails digging in. (That reminded him of the scratch marks on his back. Her hand had slipped. He was sure he didn't react, but, maybe he did, his focus on other things. She had immediately apologized. She cared about him, as odd as that was.) "The frilled chameleon has near perfect camouflage, able to replicate its surroundings to the point of near invisibility. Despite their size, it's difficult to approximate their population, though the general consensus is that they are nearing critical status as territory is lost to development and forestry." Out of facts, she swallowed nervously, now at the significance. Her shoulders stiffened, her body near shaking with tension. The fractional moment of aura pin-pricking his skin, she had to stifle absolute fury. "The final phase of the Hunter Exam was to kill one. I planned to fail after killing the other participants but I- I wasn't fast enough and-" She cut herself off, taking a heavy breath before she flatly said, "I used the corpse to pass."

Another reason for her hesitance to leave everything behind to be a Hunter. Lanfen, that moment hurt. Why else would she immortalize it on her skin? She wanted to remember what it took to become a Hunter. That the Association killed something that, by all means, should be under its protection, while she killed people simply following the rules of the exam. A hypocrite that didn't like hypocrites as much as a liar that hated being lied to, Lanfen remained a contradiction.

"The foxes," she continued, "are named Yan and Tai. They're friends." She relaxed slightly, leaning back. He wrapped an arm around her waist, brought her to his chest as his face pressed into her hair. The fact she rested her hand on his shouldn't have made him as happy as it did. "I based Arri on them after watching them for a few years."

"The scars on your leg, was a fox the cause?" He was genuinely curious, considering the absurd size of the wounds. He had a chance to study the scars, run his fingers over them, last night; no matter how much time had passed, her skin was left puckered and discolored from deep, ragged punctures.

"That's how we met." He could almost hear a smile in her voice. "There were a few would-be Hunters that tried to kill them. So, I helped Yan and Tai get rid of them. The Hunters weren't expecting a teenaged girl with Nen to jump them." If he hadn't had his arm around her, he would have missed the giggles she stifled- she had a cute laugh; as bizarre as he felt thinking that, it was true. Must be a favorite memory. He wouldn't pretend he didn't also appreciate her sadistic side- she was still tame compared to his Spiders, honestly. When she had something protect, she treated aggressors with extreme prejudice. That's why that rule bothered her so. "It was ridiculously easy, even with my leg crudely bandaged. Tai ate them alive after I injured them. They deserved it."

While she didn't attempt to flee again, she fell to silence. She had saved the most difficult subject for last.

"And the crow?" he asked, just to see if she could be prompted into talking.

"Nemmi."

"It depicts an actual crow." The Nen Nemmi was incorporeal, with a semi-translucent body and a wispy outline when visible. An opposite to the dark crow permanently marked on her skin. A restriction? She might not be able to discuss Nemmi. It seemed the most straightforward restriction to him, but Lanfen wasn't quite straightforward. "If it's a part of your conditions-"

"He's my friend." The pause dragged on for a time as she thought. Her grip on his hand tightened instead of picking at the sheets. "He was a juvenile, and he had been injured in a storm and separated from his family. Auntie helped me take care of him until he was better. He liked hanging around the com- house. Before I found a way to sneak out, he'd visit and play with me almost every day. Nothing else could really get in, so…" A _childhood_ friend… The blanket shifted and bunched as the bird hopped onto the bed. Lanfen held her other hand out, petting air.

He almost wanted to tell her to call it a compound instead of trying to correct it to house for some thin veil of normalcy. He didn't know what normal was anyway.

"He'd wander around the woods with me, sit on my shoulder, fly tree to tree, or hop along in front of me. Whenever I got an overly brilliant idea, he usually picked up on it and prevented me from completely maiming myself. I taught him how to play some board games, with some success. He liked to steal pieces. He also stole my Nen teacher's watch a few times, which I then used to blackmail him into teaching me more complex things." A bitter smile pulled at her lips. The original had done more than provide a base personality for the Nen replica. It provided her the skills to recreate it after its death. "Eventually…" She chewed on her lower lip, trying to hide her emotions. "Eventually, my father got upset enough with my behavior that he- he-" She squeezed his hand, nails just sort of accidentally biting in. The chameleon meant nothing compared to this. "He poisoned him," she whispered darkly, air heavy with aura despite her attempts to quell it.

He held her closer, whispering, "Lanfen, you don't need to continue." Killing the only thing she viewed as a friend had finished breaking her. She didn't need to explain herself to him when he couldn't do the same for her. Especially not now, with the tenuous trust between them. The trust he had formed and almost broken with his own ambitions.

The sting of aura drenched in negativity gradually faded in the silence, Lanfen shoving away her rage from once it came. No matter how she tried to shove her past away, it seemed to haunt her every moment. He wanted to believe he repressed things better, but… Maybe he didn't. Maybe his past subconsciously guided his future. Maybe he was as messed up by the past as Lanfen and Hisoka- because the two would always be two sides of the same coin.

Her death grip finally loosened, a thumb stroking the back of his hand apologetically. Instead of changing the subject, she continued and finished with, "Soon after that the Fan Shi, Joan and Virgil, they somehow found us. They… You'll see, I suppose." She was set on investigating the place, despite her nerves. He had considered telling her it wasn't necessary, that Shal or one of the others would inevitably pick up a concrete lead while they waited, but it was necessary for a different reason. For her to confront her past, to have a future without it, she found she needed to go there. And, if she broke, he would be there to remake her. "Nemmi was the only reason I got away alive," she added, voice level as her emotions calmed.

The mixed chronology, his brows pushed together. "How old were you?"

"Ten," she answered knowingly. "I've fine-tuned things since then, obviously, but that's when I came up with the ability."

"That's… Impressive." A decade would explain how she'd perfected the use of such a weird ability. Trial and error and stubborn determination seemed to do a lot for some people, Lanfen included. It also explained why companionship triumphed over function; she was smart, after all, and learned to work around the restrictions to later regain some functionality.

"It's not as impressive as it sounds," she sighed, mood shifting. Either she didn't mind this subject as much, or she wanted to turn the question back on him. Curiosity always found her, though he supposed he wasn't much better. He was the one talking about Nen while having sex. He had a bad habit of rambling about anything from Nen to religion to death, which his other partners found off-putting or ignored. She was a bit odd, though. She kept responding- rather candidly, for her- just to keep him talking. "I didn't find out my aura type until I was six."

His eyebrows now raised. They had learned Nen around the same time, despite her being six, almost seven, years younger than him. Perhaps he should consider modifying Skill Hunter instead of just adding abilities- because that had, admittedly, been his focus since creating it. He could probably find a way around some of the drawbacks. Lanfen somehow made her mess work; however, creativity was never his strong suit. He stole abilities instead of making them for a reason.

"Taking three years to develop a unique aura consistency isn't that great. And another year to come up with an application for it? Then have it be cumbersome to use and draining to maintain? Not that great either," she grumbled. "Though my father and Mister Shunru were not making it easy for me to learn. I honestly think they just tried teaching me about Nen in the off chance it'd somehow materialize that stupid item. As soon as that didn't happen, it was a struggle to get the prick to teach me anything without blackmailing him first." Hence the infamous watch thief. The original Nemmi really did set her up to make a Nen replacement. No wonder she clung to its memory so tightly. She sighed in exasperation. "Do you know how much it sucked to fight Hisoka without being able to use Ko, Ken, and Ryu?"

"I imagine you were mottled with bruises." With a few broken bones on top of that. The magician wasn't exactly known to go easy on his fixations. He just didn't kill them. Immediately.

"That's an understatement." She raised her arm, her hand resting on his cheek. Twirling a lock of his hair around her finger, she sweetly demanded, "Now that I've overshared, tell me what your Nen does."

He smiled slightly because he saw that coming. There was no harm in telling her. He no longer wanted Nemmi for himself. Even if he could utilize it, taking her friend would devastate her, and he didn't want that. He trusted her, as well. "It's called Skill Hunter." As much fun as a demonstration would have been, that wasn't an option. Teleporting her or trapping her with Fun Fun Cloth would have been amusing. "I can steal Nen abilities to use as my own." Unless they required two hands… He should work on circumventing that, if anything.

She dropped his hand, pulling away so she could properly turn around and look at him with wonder. "Steal Nen abilities?" she repeated, marveling even without a demonstration. It was impressive, in his modest opinion. "That's why Sybil is after you. What sort of ability did you take?"

He didn't mind sharing that with her as well, he supposed. An explanation would replace a demonstration- though he would still like to show her once he had his Nen back. "Indoor Fish. In an enclosed space, carnivorous fish are summoned to feast on the flesh if its victim. Until the ability is deactivated, the victim remains alive no matter the gravity of their injuries." As potentially gruesome of an ability as it was, Lanfen's wonder remained.

"Wait…" Her smile faded. "You!" She poked him in the chest accusingly. He pretended to bat his eyelashes innocently. "You were trying to steal Nemmi in Yorknew, weren't you? I knew you weren't there to just chat and steal my wallet." As her pout faded, she splayed her fingers on his chest, her eyes catching sight of her marks on his skin. Some that wouldn't be hidden by clothing. He didn't mind, this time. He didn't have an image to upkeep, currently. He wondered if she knew she had a matching set in revenge? "I hope you've given up on that," she said as she leaned forward. A marginal gap between them, she hesitated the last moment. He met their lips in a rather innocent kiss; she sought comfort from him, mind tremulous from her decisions despite being warned. Still, he didn't mind. He enjoyed kissing her. He… didn't mind comforting her without something in return, either.

"I have," he said, his lips brushing hers a second time before she pulled away. He had found something better to steal.

* * *

Lanfen sat back, crossing an arm over her chest as she fished for a blanket. Covering up now, it didn't really matter after last night, but she felt too… vulnerable… again. Or, maybe, she felt guilty for accepting his affection, his comfort. The sense of catharsis had begun to wear off, especially after throwing out the woes of her childhood to the sociopath she decided she liked. She was just digging a deeper hole for herself to crawl out of if she survived the Fan Shi.

"Did you mean it when you said you wouldn't kill me for the item?" she asked, voice dead. She already knew his answer. "I'm sure it'd be useful to you." More so than an emotional, subpar Nen-user prone to fits of impulsivity. It's not like he'd struggle to replace a bedmate. Seriously… She wished she hadn't been in such a rush the first time. He would have showered her affection, and she was beginning to realize just how much she enjoyed gentle and thoughtful opposed to clumsy and frenzied. Falling asleep with his arm draped across her, waking up with him still there… She really wished it was only the sex she liked, not the romantic cuddly crap and the person she was with. That'd make her life a lot easier.

She added, "You could probably use it on the Chain User," in attempt to change Chrollo's mind so she didn't have to deal with this. Watching the bastard's aura drain away until he died in retribution for everything he'd done to the Troupe, that seemed reasonable. "Or Hisoka, I suppose." Doing that would be a severe insult to Hisoka, considering his desire for an all-out death match. Both worthwhile endeavors _to serve the Spider_. She could see, now, why he was struggling with this. He didn't know if he wanted her to join because she would legitimately be a useful addition, or if he just enjoyed her company during this bizarre, forced, vacation of his. He might not mind being alone by choice, but this had been anything but. She could understand feeling isolated, latching onto someone that returns the faintest interest…

The half second pause, the cold calculating edge in steely eyes, he considered it again. Would he remain adamant about his decision? Probably. He could keep promises, as well as cling his decisions.

He disliked members of his Troupe dying, yet he wouldn't change a rule that encouraged it. Admitting a person into the Troupe after they killed an existing member... All under the belief it'd make the Spider stronger... Theoretically logical to keep the Spider alive, but... If he had answered why _he_ created the Spider, she might even be able to overlook it, or at least understand it, but this rule, without that context, she didn't like it. A group was made of individuals. Different members, different group dynamics, and, eventually, a different group entirely. She also wasn't one to easily forgive. She wouldn't forgive someone for murdering a friend, rule or not. And to have the leader let it happen? No. Especially when he didn't like the damn rule himself and yet _still_ refused to change it.

Joining a cult wasn't high in her priorities. Not while fighting one that had fucked her over for twenty years. Still, somehow, he made the idea tempting when it should be absolutely revolting.

"I want you more than some trinket," he reassured, hopeful for her to accept that he meant it. She did believe him. That's what made the situation terrifying.

She wrapped the blanket around herself, slipping off the bed. "I'm starting to believe you," she whispered, lied, disappointed and hopeful in the same moment. Hopeful because she felt closer to him, like she understood him better, disappointed because he could so easily sway her resolve. She held out her arm, Nemmi landing, talons pinching her as she lifted him to her shoulder. A glance behind her, she felt her expression soften as she looked at Chrollo. Easily swayed indeed. Her eyes found the ground, quietly adding, "I don't want to regret this."

Another stolen glance at him as she walked away, the sad smile on his lips, he knew. He knew he still had a chance to convince her into the Troupe and get everything he wanted while she second guessed her every decision. He knew he was adding to her misery.

The moment Lan locked the bathroom door behind her, had the shower running, she dropped the blanket on the floor, slid down the wall to sit with her knees pulled to her chest. Nemmi chirped at her as she ran a hand through her hair, slammed her head back into the wall.

"I made a mistake," she whispered, closing her eyes. Every moment from the last two days flashed by, relentless. From a first kiss infected with tenderness to a final tainted with blood. To fears realized, remembered, relived. Then, in stark contrast, a fantasy. Last night, every passion lit kiss, she could still feel them on her lips, her skin, loving bruises down both their necks and chests a reminder. "The timing," she mumbled, his scent clinging to her, comforting and upsetting.

Because this was more than infatuation.

And she didn't know what to do. If her world had come crashing down when she realized Hisoka would never return even conventional friendship, the realization that Chrollo would scorched the remains to ash. Because his affection came at a steep price. If she joined the Phantom Troupe, he would effectively love her like he did the other members, but even that was conditional. If she didn't join, he probably wouldn't even care about her to the degree he did currently. Because, right now, he _wasn't_ the leader of the Phantom Troupe. He prioritized the Spider to the degree that, without it, he considered himself nothing.

It would be her fault. If she chose wrong, it was because of her own decisions. Her life, _she_ was ruining it. She couldn't just recklessly, impulsively, decide with the threat of life-altering consequences. That was what led her to this point in the first place! So why? Why did she keep doing it? Why was changing so difficult!?

She wanted Chrollo to make the decision for her. Because then she could hate him instead of herself.

All the lame justifications… See if she wanted him as a more permanent lover? A lie. With her low standards, he already qualified as a friend. A _close_ friend. She had already known she liked him. She did since the aquarium. Hell, she saw she trusted him, then, too. She wanted to sleep with him. So, she made up excuses to ignore the consequences and blame him for everything while impulsively doing what she wanted. Like always.

Chrollo saw that. He offered her an escape. He warned her that momentary pleasure wasn't worth the distress liable to follow. That she knew that because Nemmi was reacting to it. He refused to decide _anything_ for her. Whether for his own selfish reasons or her betterment, he wanted her to take responsibility for her own actions. So, he would let her make her mistakes until she learned a hard lesson.

Hilarious, almost, how she sort of wanted his blatant manipulation back. This was just… A mess. A mess she kept making worse instead of doing anything to proactively change it.

"Nemmi," she whispered, hand pulling at her hair, her nails in her leg, "I don't know what to do."

* * *

"Are you fucking serious?" Joan muttered, throwing his hands to side as he paced back and forth. "This is a huge setback, and we were so damn close! Virgil just had to end up paralyzed and-"

"He'll be fine in ten minutes," Circe interrupted, throwing herself on the couch before kicking her feet up on the armrest. Her head hit Minji's leg with a metallic _clunk_. Minji rolled her eye because Circe never quite bothered to remember the metal prostheses when flopping onto her, a lack of pain reinforcing the behavior. "I figured out what he'd been poisoned with before they had even arrived. It's not hard to make a cure for a poison I know everything about." She sighed dramatically to hide a smirk as she all but taunted Joan. Virgil had accidentally provided them with invaluable information the moment he described his symptoms. Information that might complicate or assist matters. "That's not even an issue anymore."

"Not an issue!?" he snapped, the room temperature spiking with his temper. "We lost them! That's a big fucking issue! That damn non-Nen-using bastard is still with her! And so is that clown!" He threw his hands up before crossing his arms over his chest, finally plopping into a chair. "We have no idea where they went." He ran a hand through his hair, the wooden chair creaking as he leaned back to continue complaining. "The only good thing is we know she's at least alive. Otherwise we're back at square fucking one. Why did Fanghe-"

"Joan," Minji said, his rant stopping as he glared at her. Fanghe could continue rotting, her wishes be damned.

"If I were them," Circe began, "I would go to Anchi. The Bai Ze usually overreact when they know we're in the country. Using their panic as an alarm seems like a good idea to me." True, but they had another reason to believe Lanfen had fled there. "They've been traveling east, too. Had to wait for the weather to clear," Circe added, weak reasoning usually enough to convince Joan. He was growing a bit desperate. "Right?" She glanced up at Minji, absolutely living for this.

Meiling Paijin. Alive, and living in Anchi. Joan and Virgil were adamant they hadn't killed her at the compound; and, shockingly, they were correct. Whale-paralyzer snake venom. Yorknew City. A trail of assumptions led them to Meiling despite her assumed name and altered appearance. All because she had attempted to attend the auction in place of an old mafia acquaintance.

Taakya, Fanghe was right about her. Every member and associate of the Paijin and the Fan Shi at her fingertips, she had been a threat with her information stockpile. Still, Fanghe had been a bit presumptuous to think Taakya's Nen would wipe her memory banks as soon as she was dead. Funny, how rage tends to persist and infect Nen after death. Her decisions had backfired on her, that night.

The phantom ache around her neck, she wondered if Fanghe had regretted it.

"I agree," Minji said. "We should investigate Anchi."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Joan spat. Such a poor loser. He must sense that this was checkmate. "The Bai Ze-"

"You've infiltrated Anchi before," she reminded, led. "Cross the border in the mountains. The Bai Ze tend to congregate in the cities. So long as you avoid antagonizing the police, you can avoid alerting them."

"Hey," Circe cut-in, looking to Joan. "Did you ever find where Libao kept his records? After all, the supply runner that sold them out said they were narrowing in on where our base was."

Joan's face went blank. "We figured Lanfen was dead, so we didn't really bother with any of that shit," he muttered. "There was what looked like a bunker door that let out into the forest. Probably kept it in there in case he needed to grab it on the way out. Place caught on fire when Virgil's bugs got in the way of a fire blast that that Nen-user diverted to keep it from hitting Libao. Bastard booked it into the house. We thought he was gonna go grab Lanfen and run for it, but then we found his corpse still inside. Left it to fucking rot." He frowned, looking to the ceiling as he lowered his voice, "A kid wouldn't have survived that. At least, we thought that. Maybe he-"

"Libao would have burned her to death himself if it meant he got to live," Minji said despite herself, voice a knife. Fanghe took after that bastard. Joan didn't seem to understand that. Neither did Virgil and Adalei. They couldn't see her as anything less than their god and savior.

"Maybe you should swing by the compound," Circe suggested, sitting up to drape her arm across the back of the couch, subtly poking the back of Minji's head. She needed to calm down. She knew that, but the closer they got to an end to this, the more her anger seeped out. But that's how mistakes were made. She couldn't afford another mistake. "Lanfen and her allies are smart enough," Circe continued. Joan had no idea what they were up against now. "They might go there to look for information to take us off guard." So, they would plant a false lead just in case. "A surprise attack, a few more allies like her Hunter friends," or something far, far worse, "and they might stand a chance at killing most of us." _All_ of us, if they wanted.

"I would take Circe-"

"Why not Sybil?" Joan immediately shot out, eye narrowed. "You fixed her up. She should be fine."

"Her arm was nearly severed," Minji stated. Sybil wasn't an enhancer. It would take time to heal to a degree where she could use it effectively. Apocalypse Countdown would be hindered, and Minji might need that thing's full destructive force.

"Last I checked, the idiot was a wanted terrorist with her face plastered across the media," Circe chimed in.

Joan stood, chair clattering as it fell to the floor. He pointed accusingly, face twisted with anger. "You have the same damn face! You're twins!"

"But I'm not an idiot."

"Hell no! I'm taking Adalei."

"The blundering blockhead? Joan. Seriously." Circe rolled her eyes, riling him up beautifully. "You almost killed Lanfen once, do you want to succeed this time?"

"Adalei is a floor master," Minji added as he fumed, the room sweltering. Fanghe… When she suggested he make a fire ability, she did so as a cruel joke, not to help him get over any lingering fears. That's how she was. And he refused to see that. "Hisoka has likely seen her abilities." And, if Sybil's behemoth couldn't surprise him enough for her to win, then Adalei would be dead quickly. Then again, he might have known about Sybil's ability beforehand. Lanfen certainly knew how to pick troublesome allies...

"I'm also more suited for taking captives." Circe snapped her fingers, a spark of Nen dancing between them before disappearing. "Not to mention I could get rid of her troublesome little Nen-less partner in a split second." Another reason Sybil shouldn't go; it was a miracle and a show of her stupidity that Sybil hadn't noticed. Her oversharing likely got them into this position in the first place. "We're both aiming for the same goal, aren't we?" Her wicked smile made Joan clench his jaw, every muscle tensed. All that suspicion did him well, this time. If he went without taking one of his allies, he'd be dead. If he left with only Adalei, or an injured Virgil, Lanfen would either be killed or escape. _If_ they even found her. She planned to have Circe slip away to get into contact with Lanfen. Minji and Sybil could handle an injured Virgil. When they tried to pursue them in revenge, well, Lanfen had the solution to that problem as well.

Because Lanfen was hers, not Fanghe's. Her will would finally die with her, after this. That included devotees, if necessary.

Meiling would be more than adequate bait to draw Lanfen out should she flee from Circe. After spending a fortune on the Hunter Site and contacting an Information Hunter, she found where Lanfen and Meiling had been living. Through a school record, of all things; Meiling, she would send Lanfen to school despite the risk. Jingyi had wanted to send her… She had hoped for Lanfen to avoid being pulled into the family business, to not become corrupted with selfishness and greed like her other children. Fanghe ruined that hope.

"Fine," Joan grumbled, stomping towards the door. "But I'm still taking Adalei with."

Circe hopped to her feet to follow. She aimed a wink over her shoulder before waving goodbye.

And Minji, she would wait. Wait like she had for seventeen long years.


	31. Family Ties: Uravel

The din of dozens of crows ripped Meiling's attention from her book. The door opened, footsteps echoing as Lanfen went to raid the kitchen for every bird-friendly snack in the house. The screeching horde of local crows was always her warning, and every squawk in the last week had gotten her hopes up.

Meiling set her book aside as she rushed to the window. She was never comfortable with all the birds swarming around her, but she wanted to see Lanfen, confirm she hadn't found too much trouble. After Yorknew… She worried a lot more than she used to, and that said a lot.

Lanfen stood with her arms out, several crows begging for attention and treats. But that was normal. Meiling's eyes narrowed at the guy with her. Long black coat, black hair, and his back to her, she didn't know him. The guy that answered Lanfen's phone? He had said something about a project, but why were they here? She couldn't hear anything above the crow chatter, but Lanfen smiled- actually smiled- at him. She offered him an arm crowded with crows, all the birds leaning away, wary. Lanfen bit her lip to hold back giggles as she glanced to the empty space on her shoulder, to Nemmi. She was comfortable with him, whoever he was… She rarely laughed anymore.

The moment Lanfen began shooing away crows, Meiling scrambled to the door.

Lanfen made it exactly one step into the house when Meiling exasperatedly asked, "What have you been doing? Do you know how many times I've called you?" This kid and not answering the phone… The only reason she got a call back two weeks ago was because her _friend_ had stolen her phone to answer. At least that's what Lanfen had told her. She had avoided answering anything else. Her greeting had also been a suspicious 'what did he say to you?' Although, she had never brought anyone home with her before, so she must trust the guy. Meiling hoped she had projected her own worries onto Lanfen.

She tore her eyes from Lanfen, no obvious wounds found. Just a hickey peeking out beyond her shirt collar. As Lanfen made an excuse, Meiling scrutinized her latest friend, arms crossed over her chest. He stared right back, eyes a void. He stuck to a monochromatic scheme: black clothes, black hair, grey eyes, white bandana over his forehead- odd choice, but his earrings were garish enough to draw attention away from that. Pale skin, too. Handsome, though. Definitely Lanfen's type with this recovering goth aesthetic. Matching mark on his neck proved her interest.

She wished Lanfen would choose people her own age to date. At least he didn't look as old as the clown. Or as menacing. Still, she had a knack for finding shitty men; the same knack her mother had.

The longer she stared, the more oddly familiar he seemed. _Had_ she seen him before? Lanfen didn't introduce friends to her. Ever. Getting names took a miracle.

"You must be Chrollo, then?"

"I am," he confirmed, Lanfen glaring at him. She had told him to keep quiet, probably. She came home because she wanted something, Chrollo an unfortunate tag along. "It's nice to meet you in person." As polite as he sounded, something in his slightly accented Anchian unnerved her. It had on the phone, too. Another sense of vague familiarity, but why?

Her eyes widened. Almost all the kids Fanghe had trailing after her pronounced things similarly. That was it.

"Auntie," Lanfen interrupted, "can we go talk in the other room? I have a question." Meiling nodded, skin crawling as her stomach dropped. What had Lanfen gotten involved in this time? With Meteor City, it could be _anything_. She stiffly turned to walk to the living room to surely be delivered bad news. Behind her, she heard Lanfen jokingly whisper, "Don't take anything," to Chrollo. When she glanced over her shoulder, she caught the slight smile on his lips as Lanfen rolled her eyes.

And that, that was when it hit her.

Once in the living room, she whipped around. She wanted to shake Lanfen by the shoulders just to be dramatic with how absolutely concerned she was, but she settled for whisper yelling, "Lanfen, please tell me that isn't the leader of the Phantom Troupe in my kitchen!" She would have pointed, but if she was right… Oh, she prayed she had jumped to a horribly wrong conclusion. She hoped she misremembered the picture the mafia had sent out declaring them dead, the auction on. Lanfen's lips pressed together, her eyes wide. "Lanfen!" This was it. This is what finally gave her a heart attack. "Where did you even meet!?" Stupid question. The moment she joked about stealing, it clicked into place. "Yorknew." Lanfen looked to side, guilty. _He_ had stolen her wallet. And she knew they were targeting the auction that night because- "He's the one you said you went on a date with!?"

"It wasn't really a date," she mumbled. Felt like a lie considering the two were covered in hickeys! What else had she said in the car…

"The clown's a member of the Phantom Troupe," she said grimly. At this rate, she might need to sit down. This was a lot to deal with.

"Former member," Lanfen needlessly corrected, shifting her weight. "Chrollo's rather nice, though." Nice? _Nice!?_ Not how Meiling would describe a wanted criminal and mass-murderer!

"You're sleeping with the leader of the Phantom Troupe," Meiling stated, hoping by some miracle she was at least wrong about that. Maybe she'd dozed off while reading, or she was still asleep in bed, and this was a bizarre nightmare. But, no, reality was never that kind. Lanfen's eyes darted to the side as she sputtered, hand over her neck to retroactively hide a light hickey. "Your father would have dropped over dead if he was alive to hear this." What did she do wrong? Why did Lanfen keep seeking out danger like this? She thought that Lanfen becoming a Hunter might curb that, or at least channel it towards something productive, but, instead, it led her to far worse things than even the Fan Shi. The Phantom Troupe committed irredeemable atrocities. Did she not care? Did she not see how monstrous they were? "Lanfen, what's going on?" she asked as she sat in her chair, suddenly exhausted.

"I…" Lanfen bit her lip before sitting on the couch across from her. "Chrollo, she knows," she called, sinking into the cushions. Meiling didn't want him here. "You might as well make yourself comfortable." Meiling would prefer he didn't.

He walked through the doorway a moment later, presence suddenly much more intimidating. He didn't acknowledge Meiling, just walked by, a hand in his pocket, a bundle of black in the other, and his focus entirely on Lanfen. She smiled slightly when he dropped one of her coats on her lap. "I didn't say anything," she answered, not a hint of fear in her voice. She didn't so much as twitch as he sat down beside her- not quite touching her, but certainly in her exaggerated personal bubble. How was she so comfortable around him?

"The auction and pictures of fake corpses," Meiling said, afraid on Lanfen's behalf. How could she just brush off his unsaid question?

"What were you thinking when you did that?" Lanfen asked, her eyes sparkling, her attention all Chrollo's. Infatuation was one hell of a drug.

"I wanted to send a message," he said simply, not a scrap of remorse in his voice and expression. "It also served as a distraction while we stole the merchandise and had the Ten Dons assassinated." His nonchalance, he may as well have been talking about the weather instead of orchestrating a massacre.

And Lanfen looked impressed. Again, Meiling thought she had taught Lanfen to feel some form of sympathy for people, to not be like her father and siblings, but she had utterly failed. She rested her forehead on her hand, defeated. "Lanfen, why are you here?"

Silence. Lanfen picked at her shirt, Meiling's nerves through the roof. "The Fan Shi are after me," she confirmed quietly, eyes on her hands. She wrung the hem of her shirt nervously. "They had seen me at Heaven's Arena after all. I took a job without realizing it was one of the Fan Shi trying to lure me out of hiding." She paused, shifting uncomfortably before glancing to the side. "Chrollo's the only reason they haven't caught me." Grateful to a monster.

She worked up enough courage to glare at the Spider next to her niece. "To get the item," she said, voice ice. Lanfen couldn't be so blinded by her terrifying crush that she missed that. He was using her.

"Correct," Chrollo said, Lanfen whipping her head around to look at him with offense. He stared back at her wordlessly, and, through whatever form of silent communication they had, Lanfen eventually appeared relieved. Meiling didn't understand. "Once I have it, Lanfen is free to leave." A vicious lie. She couldn't trust this monster. How _Lanfen_ could, she didn't understand.

"We need directions to the compound. I don't…" Tearing fabric, her tight grip finally tore through her shirt. Meiling threatened to stand. The compound, the Fan Shi, the item, they were all distressing subjects. Before she had the chance to move, Chrollo set a hand on her shoulder, Lanfen immediately snapping out of her thoughts to look to him again. "I don't remember where it is," she finished as Chrollo returned his hand to his lap. Against every rational reason to feel otherwise, Lanfen found his presence comforting. Meiling didn't understand this at all. Lanfen was always so suspicious of trusting people. It didn't make sense that she chose to trust this demon in human skin. What sort of manipulation…?

"What do you expect to find there?" The year following the compound burning, Lanfen had had nightmares nearly every time she slept, unless she exhausted herself first. Even back then, she tried to hide it. After wandering through mountainous woods to a small town near (as in a dozen kilometres from) the compound, she had called Meiling, completely calm as she demanded her to come get her. Seeing her so obviously tense, the Fan Shi's pursuit was wearing on her. Going back to the compound now, it would make things worse.

"Father had been looking for them, so I thought, maybe…" Meiling nodded as Lanfen trailed off. The house had an escape route that went from Libao's study into the forest. He kept important records and a few valuables in it should he need to escape. From what little, traumatized, ten-year-old Lanfen was able to tell her, Libao had been close to finding the Fan Shi before the attack. "We need to find where the Fan Shi are hiding."

"As soon as we have the location," Chrollo added, "my Troupe will take on the Fan Shi and secure the item."

It was a promise too good to be true. Maybe that's how he had tricked Lanfen. The Phantom Troupe could, undoubtedly, eliminate the Fan Shi. They didn't have many other options, except accept Chrollo's help, attempt to hide, or die trying to fight the Fan Shi by themselves. He presented himself as their savior instead of another form of damnation.

Exasperated, defeated, Meiling sighed, "All right." Lanfen seemed to trust him- though she severely doubted Lanfen's judgment. Above all, this was one of the few scenarios ending with Lanfen alive and the Fan Shi gone. She stood, reluctantly walked to the kitchen to grab a notepad and pen. She scribbled out the coordinates to the hellish place she'd fled from. Without Lanfen. She regretted that. She regretted that a lot. She left the poor kid with her bastard brother because she selfishly wanted to leave; nothing could make up for that. Lanfen was paying for their mistakes now.

The two trailed after her. When she turned around, she handed the note to Lanfen. She immediately entered it into her phone and passed her phone to Chrollo. She didn't like other people messing with her phone… She hovered even when Meiling had it.

"Can I borrow the car?" Lanfen asked, peeking around Meiling to the dish where her keys sat. She blindly accepted her phone from Chrollo, their fingers brushing, Lanfen not flinching away. She shoved it in her pocket as she waited for an answer.

At least she asked instead of just taking. The last time she did that… Lanfen had been drunk, wrapped the car around a tree, Nen likely the only reason she lived. Then again, if they wanted a car and she said no, they would just steal one. Meiling sighed and grabbed the keys. Then promptly handed them to Chrollo.

"Oh, come on!" Lanfen complained overdramatically. If she didn't want her driving abilities in question, she should be more responsible. Her driving in Yorknew didn't inspire Meiling to change her mind.

"The last time you drove my car, you wrecked it," she reminded, keeping the reason why unsaid. "I want you to be safe." She didn't want to berate Lanfen for driving drunk. Not when she had stopped binging on her own to focus on the Hunter Exam. Meiling didn't want to helplessly watch her self-destruct again. That might be more painful than watching her willingly become a pawn to the Phantom Troupe.

"Fine," Lanfen mumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets as she pouted. Chrollo began walking towards the door, Lanfen obediently a step behind him. "Thanks, Auntie," she added quietly, stopping beside her. The unprompted sincerity made her freeze. "I know this looks bad, but I promise the Fan Shi won't be a problem after this." The Fan Shi were no longer her biggest concern. "He'll let me leave, if I want."

The _if I want_ was a terrifying addition, yet predictable all the same. Meiling followed them to the doorway, staring after them with a bitter mix of fear and sadness.

"Is that why you've been so complacent with me driving you around?" Chrollo asked, his tone almost teasing, but maybe she was just trying to make the situation seem less dismal.

"Quiet," Lanfen said, offended as she looked to her shoulder. "You too, Nemmi."

"That bad that Nemmi agrees with me?"

"Just get in the car."

And, like that, they were gone. Meiling stood in the doorway, staring off into the distance, crow chatter an ominous choir.

* * *

Chrollo followed Lanfen through the trees, curious. It had taken a few hours to drive this far. Mainly because she complained every time he broke the speed limit. Not only did she not want Bai Ze endorsed cops pulling them over, forcing them to bribe their way out of a ticket, she didn't want her aunt's car on any sort of record because that was 'as good as crashed' in her aunt's opinion.

The woman clearly disapproved of him. He made no attempt to win her over, either. Lanfen was aware of how her aunt would -rightly- see the situation. She had asked him to keep quiet, to say he was simply a Hunter friend that got caught up in this mess while they were working on something else, for good reason. He had been prepared to corroborate his previous lies while maintaining he wasn't a criminal. Any attempt he made to defend himself now would be treated as a lie; a familiar situation, although he had no reason to put in the effort to change her aunt's mind. It was up to Lanfen to deal with her. She must trust him, though, to allow him to meet the only family she had left.

The increased travel time, she had also made a phone call before altering their route from a nearby town to a rough dirt road to a farm on the edge of the woods. About twenty minutes ago, they left the car in a dilapidated barn next to an equally rundown shack. He tried not to question another old lady giving him a death glare from behind a curtain- Lanfen led such a strange life- but he couldn't. She dodged the question, only told him that the old woman helped look after a few animals while she's away.

"Should I be concerned you're leading me into a desolate forest?" he asked. It's how she would reply to his silent scheming. Her nerves were also mounting the nearer to the compound they were. The hem of her shirt was tattered beyond repair at this point. Next would be her sleeves. Humor might distract her. He was willing to play distraction, for now, at least.

She slowed her pace until she walked next to him, a devious- if a bit precious- smile on her lips. "I found us a ride into the mountains," she responded innocently enough. That's why her smile, a smile that could honestly resemble Hisoka's as he teased those around him, didn't bother him. _She_ could be trusted. _Unquestionably_ trusted. "Otherwise, we would be walking. There aren't any roads to the compound."

She stopped suddenly, holding up her arm to keep him in place. A wide animal trail cut through the underbrush, mud lined with pawprints. "Stay still," she strongly suggested before putting her fingers in her mouth to let out the most obnoxiously shrill whistle he ever had the misfortune of hearing. It was almost as bad as when Uvogin decided to shout someone quite literally to death. He would miss that. Everyone would act so offended while Uvo laughed about it.

Something came crashing through the trees, a blur ramming into Lanfen to knock her from her feet to the ground as it pinned her beneath it. He might have been concerned if she didn't start cooing, "There's my boy," while getting her face covered in drool. The giant fox laid on her, barking happily as she mussed up silvery fur, muttering "Pretty boy. Good boy." It was the happiest he had seen her. Ever. A shame that happiness would soon fade.

Chrollo turned his attention to figuring out what the creature mauling her was. Certainly not a common fox. Chrollo's height only came to the beast's shoulder. Silver grey fur shimmering in the light filtering through the trees, it was beautiful. It would make a gorgeous coat- and Lanfen would skin him for thinking that. Her tattoos did not do them justice.

_Them…_

As the thought of a second fox came to mind, he felt hot breath on the back of his neck. How serious had her warning been? He glanced over his shoulder in time to see another fox opening a mouth lined with sharp teeth.

"Yan," Lanfen warned, like she was chastising a cat pushing over a glass instead of a large fox threatening to remove his head. It was comical how she treated every dangerous animal like a house pet. She shoved the other fox until it understood to let her up, Lanfen in no hurry to save him. "He's a friend. I won't be happy if you bite him." The fox kept eyeing him, mouth open even as it took a half step back. "Shut it, Nemmi," Lanfen complained as she sprung to her feet, hands on her hips. "Don't listen to him, Yan. He's just paranoid." As she walked around Chrollo, the fox snapped its mouth closed in his face, the breeze blowing his hair back. It barked before leaning into Lanfen as she stroked its cheek.

"They can see Nen?" Fascinating, while also a bit insulting. Again, he couldn't even do that much. At least an animal was a living creature- the game console having more Nen than him really irked him.

Lanfen nodded. "Only when Nemmi isn't using In, though. They have basic control over their auras, able to use Ten and Zetsu." She motioned to Tai as it bounded back to her, the creature's presence momentarily disappearing in demonstration. "I'm not sure how much Anchian they actually understand, but they respond to more than tonal and behavioral cues from me. Yan hates baby-talk." Yan barked in apparent agreement. "From what I can tell, they're some sort of magical beast opposed to just an undiscovered species. I've tried finding more of them, but…" She shrugged. "No idea how they got here or where they came from."

"And which scarred your leg?"

She laughed once under her breath, grabbing Tai's face, fluffing the fur on its cheeks. "Tai," she answered, the fox barking before tackling her again. "He was just a grumpy boy," she mumbled into its fur before shoving it off her again. Clingy for something that tried to tear her leg off at some point. Loose fur covered Lanfen, and that wasn't exactly the kind of coat Chrollo wanted. Foxes were also not the most pleasant smelling creatures. "Yan had her leg torn open by one of the Hunters. I stumbled upon her after tracking a trail lined with blood. I was trying to help her when Tai burst from the trees. He grabbed me, proceeded to shake me back and forth, before Nemmi startled him. Yan then screamed at him because she figured out I was helping, like a smart girl." Yan snapped her head to the side at the teasing compliment, tail flicking to the side in a poor attempt to hide happiness at the praise.

As much as Lanfen was enjoying her reunion with her animal friends, Chrollo had to interrupt. Anything more would be stalling the inevitable. "Lanfen," he said, tone earning him a gloom-born smile.

"I know," she whispered, stepping back from the fox determined to smother her with affection. "It will still take a few hours, but Yan and Tai can carry us through the forest faster than a pack animal." She pushed Tai's face until the fox looked at him with narrowed eyes. This would be… interesting. "You can ride Tai." Was he better off with rambunctious or temperamental? Animals, honestly, didn't like him much. "Yan still has a limp," Lanfen muttered, guilty, as she ran her hand through the fox's fur. "You're too heavy for her. And, she'd probably kill you."

"Have you reconsidered us?" Her family saw what Lanfen seemed determined to ignore. "Your family appears to disapprove of me."

"Yours might have some complaints about me."

"True." Feitan would be… the most displeased. Understandably, of course. If he were the type to hold familial grudges, he would agree. Though, with time, Feitan would see that Lanfen was only Paijin in name. She had been a child with no part in the Paijin's trafficking. Of course, if she wasn't a Spider, that wouldn't matter. "Does that mean you're considering joining?"

She ignored him.

* * *

The forest disappeared, blackened husks of burnt trees standing in stark contrast with the green pines and saplings around them. A fire had cleared the area, if he had to guess, ten years ago. At the center of the clearing sat the ruins of a scorched building, most overrun with vegetation as it was left to decay from memory. Lanfen quietly ushered away a reluctant Yan and Tai as Chrollo looked around.

She caught his sleeve when the foxes were finally convinced into the trees. Her horrendously mumbled words were impossible to understand. Her head down, he trailed after her, unsure if he should take her hand or just let her pull him along. He understood silence was best.

The gleam of twisted metal in the low sun slowed his steps. The fire had burned abnormally hot to melt the mass of metal sheets and beams before the wood fueling it was reduced to ash. One of the Fan Shi- Joan, she had named- had a fire ability, then. He had asked her if she feared fire, in the beginning. He understood why, now.

Lanfen stopped walking as he stared, attempting to figure out why there was an entire room encased in metal. A safe, presumably.

"That was my room."

His attention shot to her. The bitterness in her voice, the way she clenched her jaw, her white-knuckle grip on his sleeve... His expression softened. She had been kept in an actual cage. That… That explained quite a lot, sadly.

When his stare lingered too long, Lanfen dropped his sleeve to continue stomping a path through the ashes alone. He followed at a distance, quiet despite the questions on the tip of his tongue. Where had she been during this attack that she had managed to escape? How did she manage to escape? She had credited it to Nemmi, but they should have sensed her Nen. In, then? She did show an aptitude for concealing her aura- Nemmi's mastery of In, even with restrictions, wouldn't be effective if she wasn't skilled in concealment to begin with.

She stepped over the remains of a wall, entering the ruins. The damage on this half of the structure was less, partial walls standing, roof collapsed in, everything scorched black. Bones peeking out from the mud, strewn about after animals pulled apart corpses, not everyone had faced immolation. Had Lanfen been here during the attack? It seemed the most probable, given the state of her cage. That room would have become an oven.

Beyond a doorway, Lanfen froze, visibly shaking. Another skeleton, its brittle bones scorched by flames but miraculously not reduced to dust. Its outstretched hand clawed at a metal hatch, rings melded with bone.

The temperature plunged, his breath catching as he instinctually stepped back. His skin crawled, bloodlust and pain heavy in the air. Without Nen, he couldn't approach her. This volatile slip in her control could kill him if she directed it at him. The sheer toxicity, it would be a lie to say he wasn't impressed on some level.

"That's my father," Lanfen said, voice a knife steadily hacking through stifling air. "While I was locked in my room suffocating, he was in here trying to get away." Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, red dripping down a few fingers.

Suffocation. She would never have passed out from pain as she roasted in that room. Because the flames didn't directly reach her, she had choked on smoke and heated air. A moment of intense desperation… She created Nemmi while on the verge of death to save herself. Her attachment to the bird was so deeply ingrained with trauma, it became a bizarre form of depersonalization.

Delirious laughter attempted to hide agony. She threw her arms to the side. "So much for being important!" She whipped around to face him, wrapped her arms around herself as her eyes threatened to water. "He kept me locked up in the compound to protect the item. That's all he could ever talk about was the item this, the item that." Crushing bloodlust wavered in time with her voice breaking. "You're the key to the item. You're what'll regain the Paijin's glory! The glory Fanghe tried to take!" Her anger continued to plummet to despair, tears gathering in her eyes. That… He didn't like it. He thought he would be fine watching her fall apart, but he… He didn't like this. "You look like Fanghe. You act like Fanghe. Are you trying to be Fanghe? I hate Fanghe. I hate- I hate-" _I hate you_.

The masks she so carefully created slipped away. Because, below the surface, she was still that scared, lonely child desperate to be something more than an inane object. She wanted to be someone, mean something, but she struggled with the consequences of her childhood. She never faced the past long enough to figure out why.

 _Why_ , he hated that word, that question. It was always easier to answer why with fate than an action, a decision, a reason. It was easier to answer why with fate than uncontrollable, unpredictable coincidence.

He carefully stepped forward, her temper quelled by melancholy. When he offered his hand, her eyes lifted from the ground. A moment passed before she took tentative steps forward, ignored his hand. Arms at her side, she simply leaned into him, her forehead pressed to his shoulder. He invited her closer, a hand on the back of her head.

"Are you going to tell me the Spiders are all I need? That I should join?" she muttered into his chest, voice numbed with exhaustion. "Go ahead," she dared, begged, "Use my pathetic breakdown to your advantage." _Prove I can't trust you_.

"No, Lanfen." This wasn't a lie. Not completely, anyway. He still wanted to use her against Hisoka, if he could, but having her join the Phantom Troupe was a different matter. It was still a selfish request, though it was made out of an odd affection instead of spite. He ran his fingers through her hair, rested his cheek against the side of her head. "I won't force you to do anything." He didn't want a puppet. He wanted her. "I won't stand in the way of your freedom."

"You're just telling me what I want to hear, right?"

"No," he reassured. He would tell her again and again if need be. "I promise that, Lanfen."

In the silence, as she collected herself, he heard her sniffle. When she stepped back, she spun on her heel, quickly wiped an arm across her face. A glance at his coat, droplets freezing to the fabric only confirmed she had been crying. He almost feared making her emotionally dependent on him, but if a few silent tears were all that slipped by when facing the crucible of her misery… She had a lot more control than she credited herself with. She was only human, after all.

"Well, enough of that," she said, voice strained as she desperately tried to brush off the outburst. "Back to what we came for," she declared, entering the former room. Her foot swept away bones before her heel stomped on the skull. Again and again and again. As she reduced the skull to shards, he stood outside the room. He didn't want to intrude. If it made her feel better, even if just minutely, she could crush the skeleton to dust uninterrupted. Her father. Fanghe. The main sources of her pain were long since dead. Revenge was unreachable, forgiveness undeserved, leaving her in directionless limbo.

A final stomp, her boot grinding bones into the ground, and she stepped back, chest heaving. When she turned to the hatch on the ground, silent tears glistened in ever-dying light. She kicked at the ground, the metal mechanisms to open the hatch melted beyond use. She gave up, mumbling, "one in the forest," as she paced to a small safe under the remains of a desk. "Nemmi." Metal fighting metal screamed into the still air, her Nen slicing open the weaker metal with Nemmi's repeated bashes.

Money spilled out.

Lanfen stared at the pile before wiping her sleeve across her face. She passed by Chrollo, avoiding his eyes. "Look for a key," she snapped in misaimed rage. "If it's not here, then I'll just tear a damn hole through the exit." A few steps away, she slowed to quietly, apologetically, add, "I'll be in the courtyard."

* * *

A final pebble on the stone marker, and Lanfen pulled her legs to her chest. Nemmi perched on her shoulder, silent, his head low.

The single tree in the courtyard, the one she used to use to escape onto the roof, lay on the ground, limbs burned away, trunk a hollow husk of blackened wood. In front of the tree… The gravesite appeared untouched. Any damage had been cleaned, debris moved aside, ash clinging to stone brushed away. A makeshift cross of sticks and a strip of fabric defiled it. She glared, wanting to toss the trash into the ash, but she didn't know if she should.

Joan and Virgil had tended to Mother's grave. She was too tired to think about it. She didn't _want_ to think about it. Because her mother… Before the night Fanghe died, the Fan Shi, they had been constantly around the family. They _had been_ family. They gave gifts to her mother, and she kept them, even after everything. She never damned their names like Father. It felt wrong that they might have loved her mother too, even if she was kind to a fault.

Deliberate footsteps behind her, she decided to continue embarrassing herself. "My father killed my mother," she said, eyes on the stone marker. "She relapsed out here and my father-" She swallowed harshly. A hazy face, a distant voice, she barely remembered her anymore. She had nothing to remember her by, even. Everything had burnt up in the fire. "He wouldn't let her leave. He wouldn't let a doctor come here. Instead, he just forced us all to watch her slowly waste away." Lanfen had been five. She didn't even understand what was going on. Not really. Just that Mommy slept all day because she didn't feel good. That her bones protruding from paper skin was because she was sick. A month after her death, she still didn't understand. She caught a cold playing in the rain and thought she was going to die, too…

"You loved her," Chrollo stated out of nowhere.

"I did," she answered, not in the mood to find his reason. "Father acted sad. He would bemoan that there was nothing he could do. He still refused to do anything beyond flinging out empty words, though." Auntie had _actually_ taken care of Mother. She had tried to leave to get help, eventually. Father had threatened to kill her. If she ever left and tried to come back, he promised he would. But it was already too late by then, anyway. "He had her buried in the yard." _Like an animal_. In a final insult, he didn't help dig the hole, move the body, make a headstone, or bury her. He just stood there, dictating, complaining whenever Lanfen tried to help. He told her to shut up when she kept crying. She'd never seen Auntie as angry as she had been that day.

Father drove her over the edge, too. "Then Auntie left because she couldn't handle his idiocy anymore." And that rift never disappeared, Lanfen always an unruly disappointment. After she left… All she had was Nemmi. The stacked stones at her feet, she bit her lip. Nemmi shuffled on her shoulder, chirping, trying to grab her attention. "Then he poisoned Nemmi." _And I killed him_. "He took everything from me."

He took everything from her as he screamed at the Fan Shi and Fanghe for taking everything from him. The blaming. The playing victim. The lying. The complete selfishness. She hated him. She hated him, and, yet, she was just like him, wasn't she?

"Lanfen," Chrollo whispered, voice trailing off.

She stood, brushed the ash and dirt from her pants. Chrollo didn't come here to witness a pity party for one. Information. Then pathetic whining. Lan turned on her heel, ready to get back on task to live in numbing restraint until she was alone. Her foot caught on the ground. Startled, confused, captivated, her emotions took a one-eighty from self to other. She froze in place, eyes trapped by his.

A single tear finished its journey down his cheek.

When…? _Why?_ An eternity passed before his eyes shifted from hers. He brought a hand to his face, chuckling under his breath as he wiped away the trail. "I don't think I've felt empathy before," he said, wholly bemused. "Rather, I don't think I'm capable of it. Yet, we are still similar, aren't we? If your emotions reflect that as well, then would you agree I should feel similarly?" He smiled as she gaped, no words available. "You are truly something special, Lanfen." He meant it. She just… She didn't understand this man at all. What had she said that he looked like he had an epiphany?

He held out his hand, a key pinched between his fingers, to lead her back to the task at hand. She stared, unmoving, a moment longer. Empathy? What realization did he make that dealt with empathy that then made him laugh and compare himself to her? He made it sound like he wanted to borrow her emotions.

If he had just been aiming to distract her from childhood drama, he succeeded, if just for a moment.

Seeing no easy answer to her confusion, Nemmi cawed impatiently to snap her out of her daze. Right. She didn't want to be here. She glanced over her shoulder to the graves a final time before approaching Chrollo to take the key and the lead. He instead matched his pace with hers.

"How much was my life worth?" she asked as they passed the damned study and the last stretch of ruins on the way into the forest. A door hidden in the ground, she had come across it while playing with Nemmi years ago. Before Auntie explained it was just an escape route, a tunnel from the house to the forest, she thought it was a door leading to a magical land or a secret market or anywhere else. How quickly her father killed her imagination…

"Two hundred thousand," he answered, reaching into his pocket to show he had, in fact, taken everything. A thief to the end, her lips almost twitched into a smile. "Not even enough to repay my debt to you," he added. If she were in a better mood, she might have demanded him to pay her extra for protecting him. She said she wouldn't, in the beginning, even if it had been a lie. She wanted to, now.

A bitter smile pulled at her lips. Without the item, she was just another mistake, another Fanghe, to her father. She never meant anything. She was never worth anything. And she could never confront him. He was just another untouchable ghost haunting her. "I wish I could smash apart his skull a hundred more times." Maybe then she would have some semblance of peace, or relief, or… anything instead of hollow anger left without a target.

Such a depressing place, she didn't want to be here anymore. She wanted to go back home. They could stay at Auntie's for the night, and, maybe, she could distract herself by proving Chrollo wasn't that… bad despite being a monster, that he wasn't a threat, or threatening her, or… Auntie seemed scared of him, and disappointed in her, and Lanfen didn't-

A flicker of light. Cold lightning up her spine. Hesitation in her next step. Time slowed, frozen heart in her throat as wide eyes met a green glow in the trees.


	32. Hallowed: Misfortune

A flicker of light. Cold lightning up her spine. Hesitation in her next step. Time slowed, frozen heart in her throat as wide eyes met a green glow in the trees.

An eerie wisp of energy snapped through the air with a bang. The trajectory. A second behind without Nen, he-

Her fingers caught Chrollo's sleeve as he tensed, unable to see the attack. She shoved him to the side, away. The energy sliced through her shoulder instead, slammed into the ground at their feet with an earsplitting screech and a blinding flash.

The ground erupted. The explosion tore her from the ground, tore her fingers from Chrollo, split them apart.

Vision choked with dust, she pulled herself from the dirt, disoriented, ears ringing, brain racing. Arri covered her fully without another second of hesitation. She needed to find Chrollo. That attack had been aimed at him. She stole a glance at her arm as Nemmi found her in the dust storm. Small hole punched through her shoulder. Stiff. Bleeding with unnatural abandon. Some sort of drug or…?

Poison and explosives. Circe's Nen.

Another aura joined the wild sparks of the first. Crushing force, an oppressive weight wrought with familiarity. Adalei.

Her feet dug into soil to propel her forward. Chrollo. She needed to find Chrollo. Location already given away by Arri, she ordered, "Nemmi, use En." He cawed, aura stretching out, holding En. The second he sensed- A panicked screech warned her a fraction before the air shifted at her side.

She ducked under a punch, rolled forward before flipping, twisting her body to keep sight. Blond hair, multiple battle scars on muscled skin, and ill-dressed for the cold in shorts and a crop top, Adalei looked the same as she had in Heaven's Arena. She whipped around as Lan landed. The dust forced aside, the air displaced by her punch and a tree splintered in place of her body, not something she wanted to get hit with. Enhancer, probably. Strong defenses would be just as troublesome.

Adalei's grinning snarl twisted her face as she charged again. Lan weaved between strikes, retreating towards the compound, towards the trill of Circe's aura. Adalei was slower, but not clumsy, strikes a mistake away from breaking bone. This needed to end quickly.

Nemmi circled.

She leaned away, shifting aura to her arm, preparing. Adalei's aura gathered at her fist for another swing. Nemmi's wing sliced across Adalei's back with a line of blood spatter. As her eyes darted away in search of Nemmi, Lan lunged, Arri focused over her arm, aim for her neck.

Spit flew from her mouth as Adalei's fist dug into her stomach. With wide eyes, she stumbled back, redirected Arri to prevent a follow up strike. Adalei knew she used Nemmi as a distraction. She likely knew everything about her Nen from Virgil. Damn…

Warm blood dripped down freezing fingers.

Adalei cackled as she flared her aura, a truck on Lan's empty lungs. "For aura like a knife, it can't cut worth a damn," she taunted, turning to the side to show off her back, the thin cut negligible. She swore it had done more damage but… With so little blood oozing… "How'd Virgil get so ripped up?"

"Shut up," Lan snapped, leaning forward, ready to lunge. No time for banter. She had to go find-

Her vision swayed. She jerked to right her balance, fit of vertigo worsening. The poison. Stomping footfalls and a blur of blond, Arri flared over her body desperately. Nemmi screamed as he dived for the woman's face.

Adalei's fist slammed into her stomach a second time.

Lanfen flew through the air. Her back struck stone, vision swimming, shoulder bleeding. While drunkenly stumbling to her feet, her breath caught, eyes almost watering with unrivaled fear. Flames licked at her skin, heat searing as it pressed into her skin. This aura… Behind! She spun around, world swaying.

* * *

Chrollo forced himself off the ground, disorientation from the blast ignored. In the same moment, his Ben's knife was in hand, ready. Dust hung in the air, shadows of trees lurking beyond the haze. He had never seen Circe's Nen in use, but, undoubtedly, that had been her. Sybil had described it as a spark of energy that could slice through targets and cause radial blasts when released. She could also use it to carry poison.

He stepped towards the compound. The outward force and trajectory, Lanfen would have landed somewhere in that direction. She would also be poisoned, likely with something meant to kill, considering it had been aimed at him. Stupid girl… He wasn't something to protect. He doubted she considered the consequences. If she died or was captured, they would still attempt to kill him. The moment they realized who he was, they would have no other option but kill him. Not unless they wanted the Phantom Troupe to massacre them to regain possession of her or revenge for her if she died. It was quite obvious, right now, how close they were- he was a damn idiot, he had been so focused on how their relationship would affect the Spider that he forgot that he had plenty of enemies that would adore taking a lover from him.

His feet stopped in place.

Unless she had meant to bargain with them. If she handed herself over quickly, got them to agree to ignore him, then they wouldn't know of the Phantom Troupe's involvement. He could contact Hisoka. They could rescue her.

A tree erupting in the distance, the sound of a battle commencing, showed she hadn't thought that far ahead. Her mental state was less than ideal for this situation. As much as he adored her emotions, they were in the way this moment.

He whipped around, knife gliding across skin. A hand gripped his wrist, knife ignored, as they swung him to the side. He quickly found himself face-first in the dirt, a knee in his spine to pin him to the ground. The _pop_ of a bottle, a discarded lid rolling at his nose, his plan to allow his attacker to succumb to the poison fell apart. She came prepared. The Fan Shi knew he was involved. Or, at least, Circe did.

A hand smashed his cheek into the ground before the laughter started.

"If it isn't little Chrollo," Circe teased, allowing him to turn his head enough to see the woman uncomfortably kneeling on his back. A shorter haired Sybil, the pastel green dye not covering dirty blond roots. She grinned at his forced-blank stare.

"Circe."

"Its almost like we're children playing keep-away again," she mused, releasing his wrist to pry the knife out of his hand. Poison was rather useless against a woman with a cure for everything. Or exposure immunity. Didn't matter which, right now. "I _knew_ it was you. Virgil, cut by a knife doused in your favorite poison, it had to be. Although, it was weaker. Almost like someone had run out and improvised with venom straight from a snake?"

He shifted, and her knee dug into his spine threateningly. He could throw her off of him, but he doubted he could get further than a few steps before she countered. Yet, if she truly wanted to kill him, she would have as soon as her teasing ended. It was obvious he couldn't use Nen; she didn't need to examine him so closely to notice that. He narrowed his eyes slightly despite himself. He didn't have time for this. She jerked his head to the side, pulling his hair as she looked him over.

Humiliating… He _loathed_ feeling powerless. If he had his Nen, Circe would be dead at his feet. The Fan Shi would be a memory. Lanfen would be at his side instead of fighting on hallowed ground that birthed her deepest fears.

After another irritating moment, she whistled. "That's a powerful curse you have." She stabbed his knife into the ground next to his nose. "Welcome to the club." She stopped rubbing his face into the dirt to reach into her pocket, sitting on him as she typed away on her phone. His pocket buzzed a second later.

The moment she stood, he moved to get up, but froze, his eyes wide. Lanfen's scream ripped through the air. Terrified no longer adequately described the fear in her strained voice. A second strangled scream squeezed his heart as painfully as the damn chain wrapped around it. Lanfen… Whatever had happened, she had given into absolute panic.

He dug his phone from his pocket. The new message contained a string of numbers.

Coordinates.

* * *

"Adalei! What the fuck?" A voice from nightmares almost made her cry out in unfelt pain, startled scream swallowed. Her eyes darted towards the voice, to the man trudging forward. Vision dancing, she could still tell. Even blind, his voice, his aura, was engrained in memory. The horrific burn scars on half his face, this was Joan. "You almost broke Jingyi's headstone, you idiot!" he shouted, advancing. She felt her heart sink further when she realized she stood atop her mother's grave, stone cracked by the impact, pebble tower toppled. "Watch what you're fucking doing!"

Before Adalei reappeared, Lan launched herself at Joan. He cursed as she crashed into him, Arri slashing across skin. Joan knocked her back, her feet dug into soil as she lunged again. Arri caught his side, shirt tearing, blood seeping from another superficial cut. He knocked her away, and she stubbornly tried again. And again. And again.

Why? Why wasn't he taking more damage from direct hits? He used fire! He was supposed to be an-

A fist to the face made her stumble backwards, trip over her own feet as her vision spun. She scrambled to balance as he stepped forward, reached to grab her. A burst of flames made her bite her lip to keep back a startled gasp. She slowly backed away as he mockingly approached a wounded animal, careful, low.

Vision a kaleidoscope of blurs, blood still running down her arm, she hated the fear strangling her. She hated wanting to be saved when she needed to be the savior. She felt useless. Defenseless.

Joan shouted, Nemmi's discordant screeches more vivid than the vague shapes in her vision. As Joan flailed to hit Nemmi, Lan haphazardly charged him. She could use Arri. She could claw out his eyes. Nemmi screamed, every aura-laced connection between them yelling, demanding, begging her to run. Joan landed a hit. Wisps of dispersed aura faded.

An intrusive thought came with vanishing aura. If she was captured and Nemmi was gone, she could use God Complex to es- No! No, no that wasn't an option! But that, that qualified as intent, didn't it? She didn't know. She didn't know how her own ability worked.

She spun on her heel as Nemmi's talons raked a line in Joan's face, as he pushed away, pretending to escape if only to make her run, the damage done.

Adalei.

Her erratic heart lodged in her throat, watering eyes wide as she desperately tried to stop and turn. The woman drew back her arm, aura bright, crushing. Arri wouldn't be able to stop it. Her skull would cave in. Stab bone fragments into her brain. She'd die.

Adalei swung her fist for Lanfen's face.

An extra burst of pale blue, the dying wisps of Nemmi faded as Adalei's fist smashed through him. Arri could cushion the damage enough. Enough to save her from immediate death. Nemmi-

A tug to her collar saved her from what would have been a nasty blow to the face. As Adalei stumbled from a missed strike, Lanfen slipped her arms from her coat, hands clawing dirt before she scrambled to run. Joan tackled her, cussing as Arri sliced into him. He refused to release her. He carried her out in front of him like a flailing, injured animal. A poisoned, terrified, injured animal.

"That would have killed her, you idiot!" he yelled. "What the fuck is your problem?" He dropped Lanfen to the ground when she kicked him in the groin. "You coulda sliced it off," he shouted, voice high with fear. He damned every god in existence even if he couldn't feel pain, shoving her before she could take off. He wrecked her balance.

"She pissed me off," Adalei said, holding back laughter. This battle was a joke to her, to them. She grabbed Lan's arm, whipping her around to make her bleary world spin faster. The woman gripped her other arm, holding Lan captive in front of her. She dragged her feet through the dirt when marching her towards Joan failed. She didn't even react to Arri carving away at her skin. "She fights dirty. Learn that from your magician pal?" Lan thrashed about even more. Her aura gathered at her back, materializing Arri. Before the fox could snap at Adalei, her grip on her arms tightened. A foot dug into her lower back as Adalei wrenched her arms back, threatened to do more than simply dislocate them. "Do that and your arms are coming off!" With blood already staining her from her shoulder to her knee, losing her arms would kill her. But, maybe, dying now would be better than later. Lanfen felt Arri weakening as endless moments ticked by.

"Stop it, Adalei," Joan snapped, stomping towards them. "God, maybe Minji was right. Should have just taken Circe because you're a fucking idiot." Adalei growled, fingers digging into her skin even after she removed her foot. "Hey," he said, stopping in front of her. "Hey, Lanfen, calm down." She tried to kick him even if it resulted in a knee to her back, knocking the air from her lungs. "Kid, you're making this worse for yourself. Just stop fighting for two goddamn seconds and listen."

"Listen to what?" she spat, delirious as tears threatened to spill over. She couldn't see anything but light and dark. Her body felt like freezing cold lead. "You sucking up to a rotting corpse for the ite-"

"Just," he interrupted, infuriated, his aura leaving her in a cold sweat. "Fuck! What is Circe doing? It doesn't take this damn long to kill someone." His shadow disappeared from in front of her, pacing steps back and forth. Maybe Chrollo was still alive. Maybe her failure didn't kill him too. "Fuck, you're gonna die if you keep bleeding like this," he mumbled, back in her face. The poison was meant to kill. No wonder she felt worse than garbage.

His aura lit up again, scaring her into fearful silence. Her heart tried to beat out of her chest as he took another step forward.

An errant flame made the tears finally overflow. A scream tore out of her throat when the flame got close, passed by her face to sear skin. The sound, the heat, she screamed again, rational thought crushed by terror. Adalei slapped a hand over her mouth, but she kept screaming, flailing, as burning flesh hit her nose.

"Do that again and I snap your neck."

She screamed again, daring her, wanting this to be over. Snapping her neck in the remains of the courtyard would be a fucking fitting end for her. Another fear, the Fan Shi dragging her off somewhere in seclusion for a long stay in a torture chamber, if they didn't know where the item was, that was her fate. Her throat felt raw as she screamed again. Maybe, if they had her, they'd let Chrollo live.

"Shut it, Adalei," Joan yelled over her, burning her skin as he added, "she's terrified!" His hand slipped as she jerked against Adalei's grip. "I'm just cauterizing the wound, kid! Stop moving around!" Rich, he was trying to save her! Oh, that just made everything okay. She bit Adalei's hand, a hit to her back making her cough. Joan grabbed her forehead, tilted her head to his level. Arri might as well be a safety scissors against steel with how weak it had become. Sheer stubbornness was the only reason she kept trying to use it. "Did Circe say what this concoction did? Other than bleeding? Even if she meant to hit the guy with this, she has to have a cure on her, or some shit that'll fucking help, right?" He almost sounded concerned, and that infuriated her. Lan kicked at him, catching his hip. An overdramatic curse hardly quelled building rage.

"Like I know," Adalei said, pulling her slobber-covered hand away.

Whatever Joan opened his mouth to yell was lost when Lan spit in his face, kicked his shin and then Adalei's. Needed to keep their attention on her and here. Chrollo was leagues smarter than her. Even if she could still sense the trill of Circe's aura above the flames and pressure of Joan and Adalei, Chrollo could find way to escape. Right? She… She couldn't sense him without En, without Nemmi. She hadn't gotten him killed, too, right?

"Kid, seriously, why do always kick me?" Joan sputtered, amusement in his tone, and Lanfen hated Fanghe more than ever. That stupid lack of pain was making it very hard to annoy her minions into either killing her or wasting their time restraining her.

"Let my friend go and maybe I'll stop," she hissed, words slurred. Everything was some level of numb. Even if she managed to pull away from Adalei's death grip, she wouldn't make it far.

"He's already dead," Adalei cut in, crushing Lan's wrists in one hand. She stomped on her foot, Adalei returning the favor with a knee to her back. Her legs gave out, refusing to carry her weight any longer. Arri fizzled away to a pathetic sheen of Ten. He wasn't dead… "Some Nen-less nobody should have been dead right away."

"Hey," Joan tried, hand back under her chin. "Lanfen, can you s-"

"Go fuck yourself." She wondered if Chrollo and Hisoka would even bother saving her. The item was never that important to Chrollo. Would he endanger the Troupe to retrieve her? He loved them. He wouldn't. And, Hisoka, with all her losses, she wasn't worth another fight. Worse, he warned her. After the train crash, before returning to Greed Island, he explicitly told her 'don't get Chrollo killed,' trailing his nails over her throat. "He's not dead," she screamed. "He's not," she whispered, desperate. If… If he was, then… Then no one could come save her. No one would know. Not even Hisoka. "He's not dead," she repeated, pathetic tears slipping out again.

"She's annoying me," Adalei complained, pulling Lan back to her feet. "I'm going to knock her out."

"Wai-"

Everything went silent.

* * *

In a flawless performance, in her humble opinion, Circe glanced over her shoulder at Chrollo to give a cheeky wink. He was back to his usual emotionless, calm self. He said nothing. No quips. No questions. Just anxiety-inducing silence marked with murderous coldness. The moment she lazily began wandering away she let her face slip to wide-eyed worry.

He had narrowed his eyes at her! That might as well be a death threat. The glazed over look when he heard Lanfen scream, he promised death with that expression. The emotionless silence where he didn't even pretend to act human, that was an overt omen of disaster.

Chrollo, oh, he was _LIVID_. He always had a subtle, quiet, calculated anger, which was honestly the most terrifying type of anger. Because he would plot to kill those that had slighted him in the most painful, humiliating ways he could instead of just throwing a few punches and heated words before moving on.

Circe had seen him angry. Once. When they were children. Another kid had stolen something from him. That kid somehow ended up in a nest of flesh wasps. After hundreds of stings, while the kid was still alive, skin covered in welts, nerves on fire from the venom, Chrollo sat and watched as rabid dogs tore them apart. He had a possessive streak- but, honestly, who in Meteor City didn't?

This was far, far, _far_ worse than expected. He didn't just want the item like they had assumed. Nope. He wanted Lanfen. Had she joined the Troupe in Yorknew? Because this was Spider-level rage- though lovers might near that status if he liked them enough, she supposed. Damn did Lanfen know how to pick allies.

Circe stepped out of the trees, obliviousness back on her face. Time to convince them she just single-handedly killed Chrollo Lucilfer. Although they didn't know it was him. It was a miracle idiot one and two failed to identify him. Then again, no one expects the _Phantom_ Troupe to be stalking them until its much, much too late.

"Where the hell have you been?" Joan screamed in greeting as she walked through the ruins of the compound.

Circe glanced up and about keeled over on the spot. Joan had Lanfen's pale and bloodied body propped up against him. She knew she had hit Lanfen with a poisoned strike, but that massive bruise forming on her cheek? That had Adalei all over it. And if there was one bruise, there were probably more hidden under her clothes. Overkill in excess Adalei, the fact Fanghe had her tamed at one point might be the only thing Circe envied about their dearly departed leader.

"He nicked me," Circe stated, holding up her arm, sleeve torn, thin cut in her skin. She looked good compared to these two. She'd give Lanfen one thing: she put up a damn fight despite taking on the two physically strongest of the Fan Shi. While poisoned. She mentally noted to make sure Minji restrained her if she planned to talk to her alone. "So, I took my time. I mean, I thought she'd be well under control, poisoned and all." She shrugged stiffly, just not feeling the nonchalance in her own voice.

This was getting a teeny tiny bit out of hand. At this rate, they would need to issue a formal apology to Chrollo, keep Lanfen from further injury while somehow protecting themselves, and hope against odds that he would humor the situation enough to spare them. Or else she, Sybil, and Minji were going down with the rest of the Fan Shi.

Even if closure was all Minji wanted, this wasn't worth dying over. Though, she had also just invited Chrollo to the Fan Shi base… That didn't quite give her and Minji time to discuss other options.

"Well," she said, reaching for Lanfen, "hand her over before she finishes dying."

She would just go with the flow.

* * *

"Oh, come now, Machi," Hisoka pestered, the seamstress trapped in the back seat of the car with him. He _adored_ captive audiences. "You're not the slightest bit jealous?"

"I think you're the jealous one," she deadpanned, icy eyes on him only briefly before she looked back out the window.

"You haven't shut up about her since we got here," Nobunaga complained, squished against the other window, seething.

Hisoka, of course, chose to sit in back in the middle. The losers of a dramatic coin toss ended up in the back seat with him. Bonolenov and Franklin dutifully ignored the chaos from their prized front seats. Such an interesting team Machi had assembled for the mission. He wished he could have seen their faces when Machi got sneaky little Lan's text warning them of his impending arrival. Although, he had arrived hours early by using the port in Greed Island as a shortcut.

His phone distracted him as he opened his mouth to continue his one-man show. A shame. The card tricks were next.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, balancing it on his nail as he read the number. Chrollo. Not Lan. The phone kept buzzing, like it was something of dire consequence. He held it to his ear, ready to mock everyone in the vehicle with the fact he could talk with their Danchou while they couldn't. Franklin, in a highly illegal maneuver, pulled to the side of the road, stomping on the brakes, four sets of glaring eyes on Hisoka and his buzzing phone. Machi got out of the car, ready to drag him outside if he kept Chrollo waiting another moment. He complied, smile on his face, simply because it was likely the long-awaited kill order. And here he thought Shalnark would have found the information first. Lan must be terribly upset with Chrollo if they were being productive instead of fooling around.

The moment the door slammed closed behind him, the Spiders out of earshot to prevent any sort of unfortunate accident from befalling their cursed leader, Hisoka answered with a cheerful, "Hello, Chr-"

"They have Lanfen."

His grin disappeared. "What do you _mean_ they have her?" He struggled to keep an overly cheery tone. He felt eyes on his back at his little outburst of bloodlust-laced aura. Was he… concerned?

Chrollo ignored the unsaid question of how. Any other time, a blow to Chrollo's ego might have amused him. But Lan, his precious fledgling, ended up captured. Machi felt it necessary to bring three others with her and with the demonstration Sybil had provided him, the Fan Shi was not a complete joke. To Lan. She wasn't ready to fight them all on her own, and if they broke her before he had the chance to… Just, she was his and that's all that mattered. Being genuinely irritated-not concerned- was justified.

"I am sending the coordinates," Chrollo said, short and to the point. "I ask you keep her in mind while causing complete destruction."

"You sound almost upset, dear Danchou."

"As do you."

The line died, a text with further instruction immediately following. Hisoka got back into the car without a word about Machi switching seats to the middle. "Change in plans," he said ever so sweetly, forced grin stretching his lips. He quickly scanned the message, that flame of irritation fanned with each word. "Chrollo so clumsily misplaced Lan, we now have to retrieve her."

Because, infuriatingly, that so-called item seemed an afterthought Chrollo tacked on at the end of his orders. How quickly he had grown attached to his darling fledgling. Denying Hisoka his attention while simultaneously stealing his toy… Crushing Chrollo in battle would prove an unimaginable pleasure.

But, first, he had other distractions to remove.


	33. Captive: Phobia

Lanfen remained fitfully asleep, face scrunched in discomfort. An aftereffect, Circe had warned, when administering a cure for a second poison meant to keep her asleep. She had woken up after the initial confrontation at the compound, had broken a car window and pulled herself half-way through before Joan caught her by the foot. She kicked him in the face, Circe told her, thoroughly amused. And then Lanfen had punched Adalei, so Circe had knocked her out more permanently. She seemed convinced the kid would demolish her way out of any transportation they took or provoke Adalei into killing her. _Anything_ to be free of them.

Minji glanced at the bands of metal anchoring Lanfen to the table. Would she be able to break free? An outright fight, Lanfen would win against her. Restrictions strengthened Minji's hold on Lanfen, if, and only if, she had estimated Lanfen's skill correctly. She reinforced the metal with a bit more Nen, not wishing to find out at this critical juncture.

Further injury may be just as damning as a successful escape.

Her eye landed on the cellphone in her hand. She turned it back on, still amazed by the lack of security. Lanfen's system for contacts left a lot to be desired, though. All emojis barring the Hunter Association. Still, Minji knew which two she needed. She sent a brief message to the needle asking when they would arrive while denoting her name and a different number to respond to, hoping Machi to be among them. Dependent on Chrollo's wishes, Machi may at least consider humoring her old mentor's requests if they didn't contradict the head's will. (Minji sincerely hoped Feitan wasn't among the members attending. He and Sybil would level the entire block if left to run wild. At least Sybil would hesitate to kill Machi. Her clothes depended on it.)

The spiderweb was a more intimidating matter. Regardless, she called, held the phone to her ear. The wait was brief. The silence was tense.

"My name is Minji," she introduced carefully, provoking him more the last mistake they would ever make. "Lanfen is here, alive. I do not intend to kill her, nor do I wish to keep the item." No, she wanted an answer. Or, truthfully, a confirmation. Fanghe… Minji absently touched her throat as she added, "Circe and Sybil are my allies. I asked Circe to share our location with you."

"You're seeking a truce," he said, voice low, so calm and smooth that there wasn't a trace of telling emotion. Yet, Circe was convinced he was furious, that Lanfen meant more to him than obtaining the item. Minji had checked her over while treating her. Lanfen lacked a spider tattoo. She wasn't ready to believe they stepped onto a minefield of a different sort.

"Yes. Joan, Virgil, and Adalei are unaware of your involvement. Though they wish for the item, they are liable to injure Lanfen in the process of obtaining it." Namely, while attempting to question her. Minji had only told Circe the details. A Nen-coated chip along Lanfen's spine… There was data on it, though only Fanghe had known what, exactly. Minji needed time to remove it safely. Joan, Adalei, and Virgil needed to be fully occupied with no chance they could slip away to interfere. The Phantom Troupe would provide a perfect distraction, so long as they didn't interrupt either. A balancing act on a knife blade… "It would benefit us both to work together."

A heavy pause had Minji reconsidering her plans. If a truce failed, then Circe and Sybil would have to directly confront the others while she removed the chip. She didn't… She still felt reluctant, even if she had already betrayed them to reach this point. She would rather they died to someone outside the Fan Shi. But this was also their own fault. They refused to listen. They refused to believe that Fanghe had betrayed them first. Instead, they clung to her memory, treated her as their god and savior incapable of wronging them. So, they would die a martyr's death for their god, just as they wanted, no matter who delivered the killing strike.

"I want to speak with her." His voice snapped her back to the present. This was a hostage negotiation. She needed to pay attention. She couldn't fall apart when so close.

"She is still under the effects of a sleeping toxin." With her other hand, she grabbed her own phone, haphazardly texting Circe to send him the specifics of both the poison and situation. He knew Circe. He may be more willing to believe her. "In the next hour, she should regain consciousness." She wasn't about to deny the request outright. No, she would have to be painfully accommodating.

Another long lapse punctuated with silence, Minji fiddled with the paperclip on her collar. If not the item, then Lanfen. If not a Spider, then a lover. Precarious. Troublesome. Thinking she could so easily use the Phantom Troupe had been a mistake indeed. The fault of sentimentality? Or an adopted flaw?

Reason overshadowed by compulsion, obsession, she wasn't much better than Fanghe, was she?

"Any irreparable harm to her," he said, warning an omen and promise, "and this truce is null."

He hung up.

This wasn't a negotiation for Lanfen's life. No, the hostages were the Fan Shi. Regardless of the result, Chrollo and his whims would dictate their survival. Despite a curse presumedly sealing his Nen, he remained dangerous. His loyal Spiders would carry out his orders without restraint.

His adamancy about Lanfen's safety, Circe was right. He wanted Lanfen more than the item. That might be a blessing in disguise, so long as the girl survived.

Convincing Joan to not resort to drastic measures would be the next issue. Paranoia kept him hovering nearby, never allowing her enough time to safely extract the chip. A wrong move and Lanfen was dead, retribution imminent. She needed him out of the way…

* * *

Lan's eyes shot open. A rush of reality replaced the hazy nightmares she had been trapped in since… Since… She didn't know. She could have been asleep for hours or days. Allowing her to wake up meant it was time for part two of her nightmare to commence.

They should have kept her asleep.

An attempt to sit up was quashed by restraints. _Metal_ restraints that trapped her arms at her sides. She immediately flared her aura to slash through a flimsy effort to keep her in place. Metal yielded. She watched in horror as the damage melded back together as quickly as she could slice through it. Another source of Nen, icy and slick, distinctly like a metal pole to the face, surrounded the bands.

A small pulse of the same aura beside her made her jerk her head to the side. Snowy hair, bright gold clothes, stitch-mark scarred neck, and a metal half-mask over the left side of her face, Minji sat nearby, straightened paperclip being twisted into a spiral.

Bending paperclips… The act truly seemed sinister in her hands.

Lan watched in silence, swallowing down panic. Fear is what had gotten her into this mess. She'd admit it, now. Chrollo was right. Letting her fears run wild would make her helpless. And he might… He might have paid for her panic. She had learned another lesson too late.

The anger towards her father that led to stubborn rebellion. The anger that drove her to develop her aura without help. The anger that carried her through the Hunter Exam after being so easily defeated by Hisoka and the final phase. The anger that made her improve her abilities to face Hisoka again. The anger after he had almost killed her.

Fury worked better for her.

A dull grey eye glanced away from the paperclip to scrutinize her. The same eye that had caught her in Heaven's Arena to slowly spur pursuit and capture. Only when she looked away did Lan notice she had held her breath, every muscle tensed in anticipatory dread.

Who was she kidding? Terror still threatened to eclipse rage. Her pep talks were awful… Chrollo's were better. He seemed to think she was worth something. Special, even. Hell, Hisoka saw something worthwhile in her, sort of, at some point. So, maybe that'd be enough. Enough for her to escape alive and get help instead of having to face the entire Fan Shi alone.

"Do you remember me?"

The question equally startled her and annoyed her. Virgil had asked nearly the same thing. "I saw you at Heaven's Arena," she maintained. They didn't know each other. She didn't remember whatever childhood the Fan Shi had been involved in. All she knew was from the compound onwards.

"I used to take care of you, when Jingyi couldn't," Minji said, voice quiet and rough, likely damaged from having her throat torn open. "I take it the cancer returned to kill her."

Lanfen pulled at the restraints, bloodlust filling the room, Arri slicing at metal. They didn't get to act sad! Not when they were part of the reason why! Face half-masked and fixed in neutrality, Minji stared, unaffected, unimpressed. Lan's teeth gnashed together as she continued to helplessly pull.

"Libao and Fanghe were so similar," Minji said once Lan gave up squirming. Her aura still soured the room, and she could only hope it bothered Minji like the Fan Shi's bothered her. It took a moment longer for her words to sink in. "Selfish to no end, willing to sacrifice everyone for their own gain." One of the Fan Shi badmouthing Fanghe, she didn't think she'd hear that. Especially not from Fanghe's supposed understudy. It might be a trick. Yet, they had theorized that there was a rift in the faction. _This_ would certainly cause a divide considering Virgil's and Joan's devotion.

She bit back some anger to ask, "What do you want?" A divide wouldn't matter if both sides still wanted the item. Unless Minji intended to release her, this conversation was over.

"Don't worry," she said, wholly unconvincing in delivery. Lan followed her line of sight to a metal door… On a metal plated wall under a metal ceiling with metal furniture. So reminiscent of her room, but also making her curious. A closer glance revealed that Minji's Nen flooded every bit of metal. It would take a lot to break out, unknown restrictions likely backing what was otherwise weak aura. "This will be over soon," she added, those the least comforting words to hear from an enemy while tied up in a metal box.

The door burst open with an echoing bang. Joan stood in the doorway.

"She awake?" he dumbly asked, looking right at her. He must have sensed the bloodlust and rushed over to interrogate her. "Shit, she is!" He stepped into the room, circling around what Lan believed to be a table- such nice accommodations they made for her; it didn't get more torture-chamber-esque than being bolted to a metal table. "Paperclips, scram," he said, voice sharp, already motioning for Minji to leave. Expressionless, stitched-together corpse lady would be her preferred ally, if she were optimistic about this infighting.

Minji wordlessly, obediently left. The room fell absolutely silent after Joan moved the chair, the legs screeching across the floor. He made himself comfortable, mockingly pulling her phone from his pocket before pleasantly beginning, "Hey, kid, how are-"

"Save it." He could act nice all he wanted, she would never believe him. The swollen welt on her face showed he was more than willing to hurt her if it meant getting what he wanted.

"Seriously, Lanfen, if you just cooperate, things'll be fine," he assured again, a broken record already. He told her the same thing in the car while she was passing out from a second poisoning. If her body hadn't been sluggish from the first poison, she would have been out the car window, rolling on pavement, and free- or at least run over by another vehicle. "We get the item, you go on your way."

She ignored him. Her gaze went to the ceiling, florescent lights obnoxiously bright.

There is no way they could have gotten her onto an airship without drawing attention. They appeared worse for wear themselves. If they had gone anywhere public while dragging her unconscious, bruised body, they would have been questioned. Considering Adalei's tact, corpses would follow, and, even in Anchi, mysterious murders drew some form of attention. The Bai Ze would be up in arms if they found the Fan Shi in the country.

So, if they had any intelligence at all- and, out of the three, she placed Circe as smartest- then they would travel in the least conspicuous way. They probably drove the entire distance. The compound was situated on the border. Northward, then? That still left an entire country.

Wherever they were, it was difficult to find. Narrowing down the location to a country would help, but it would still take time. Even if Chrollo was confident his Spiders would locate it eventually… She might not have that much time.

"So," Joan ground out, frustration already leaching into his tone, "where is it?"

He would snap sooner than later. Lanfen bit her lip, struggling to find a plan. If she couldn't break free of the restraints, she wouldn't be able to get far.

Nemmi would have been helpful to scout ahead, allow her to avoid the Fan Shi, or simply find the fastest way out. They would constantly interrupt, there was no way she could reform Nemmi while here unless… No. The restrictions. The restrictions she had already failed-

"Not talking is going to make this harder on you." His brows pinched together. His grip on her phone made her bite her lip. Irrational as it was, she didn't want it broken, too. "We've been trying to get the item back since Fanghe was murdered." The way he said _murdered_ made it seem like it was done in cold blood, killing some embodiment of human kindness. She narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips together tighter. "We're going to have to do what's necessary to get it."

There. The justification to go to extremes. He was too honest, too easy to read. Any other situation, and that would have been helpful information. Right now, it just confirmed her fate. The more desperate he became, the more dangerous the interrogation process became. The longer this dragged on, the more likely she died from some form of torture or frustration. She needed to escape before this escalated.

But how? She could say it's what she needed to do, but without acting…

"Kid, just-"

"Someone stole it from me," she lied, trying to buy time. "In Yorknew."

"You're lying," he predictably snapped, chair clattering to the floor. He leaned over the table, trying to keep eye contact, but she looked to the side. "She said that a clue would be with you."

"And Fanghe was a liar."

A frustrated growl, and rough hand grabbed her chin, jerked her face to look at him. She glared challengingly.

That was the truth, wasn't it? They were a family of selfish liars, daughters like father. Joan was in denial if he believed the same story Virgil had spouted when they met. Fanghe was no saint. Her motives may have been lost in death, but they were never anything just.

"If you know so much about it," she said, "then why don't you have it?"

"Minji tell you to keep quiet?"

"No!" she finally snapped, flaring her aura. He jumped back a step, shaking his hand while cursing. Overdramatic, considering the wounds were the size of papercuts and he couldn't register pain to begin with. His reaction time was unfortunately good; she didn't see herself catching him adequately off guard to tear his throat out with Arri. "I just don't know where it is. I never did."

"Fuck," he repeated, throwing his hands up in the air. He paced back to the door, pocketing her phone for a later threat. "You're staying tied up until we figure this shit out!" he yelled over his shoulder, quieter as he added, "and Minji's not coming back in here alone."

The door slammed closed.

* * *

Hours passed.

The realization that no one was coming to save her sunk in more and more, panic building with frustration and desolation. No one knew where she was. _She_ didn't know where she was. Even if they did, if Chrollo had… The Phantom Troupe and Hisoka would kill her if they did find her.

The Fan Shi would lose their patience before that. With every one-sided conversation, with her inability to answer where the item, or some clue, was, Joan grew more and more irritated. She would never have an answer. In fact, with his every desperate attempt to make her speak, the more she doubted that an answer existed at all. Screaming that in his face when he refused to believe she knew nothing had only enraged him. Enough that the next visit he had held a flame in her face, listened to her screams echo off metal walls when he singed some of her hair.

The bang of the door opening made her jump from her thoughts. She craned her neck, glare already in place. Joan paced his way to his favorite chair, and, flanking him, was Virgil. Bandages on his face and peeking out from under his shirt, a slight limp in his step as he walked, she had caused more damage than she thought. Fluorescent lights seemed to highlight the loss. Virgil stood at Joan's side, arms crossed over his chest, that spark of insulting carefreeness absent.

Lan swallowed harshly. She would have preferred anyone else- even anger-management-issues Adalei. Instead, she had two Fanghe devotees, one that was increasingly frustrated and another clearly sore about losing.

"Do you know anything?" Joan asked, breaking tense silence.

The room began to swelter at her lagging response, Joan's aura a disconcerting step away from becoming an inferno. Lan bit her tongue, desperately trying to keep a neutral expression. Even if he knew fire in her face terrified her, he didn't need to know how reminiscent this situation was to the past. Not when the causes of that deep-seated fear were side by side in a metal tomb with her. The sensation of ants parading across her skin joined the embers, her fingers knotting into her shirt to keep her from flinching away.

All she had left to tell was a truth they didn't want to hear.

"I don't know anything," she repeated, heart pounding in her ears over the buzzing of nonexistent insects and the crackling of invisible flames. "I don't."

Joan let out a heavy sigh, doubling over to rest his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. Virgil glanced at him, abnormally silent, abnormally terrifying.

"All right," Joan mumbled, face still hidden in his hands, "get it over with."

"Are you sure you don't want to share?" Virgil stepped forward, leaning against the table, invading her space. He flared his aura just to make her skin crawl with thousands of unseen legs. "If I'm being honest," he said, adjusting still-bent glasses, "I'm not very happy about your attempt to drown me. Nor my mangled leg. Nor that you and your bastard ally poisoned me."

"Then you shouldn't have lost."

The taunt made Virgil laugh humorlessly under his breath. "Are you trying to provoke me into killing you?"

She glared back at him, not denying the accusation. If she got one to lash out in anger, it would at least be a quicker death.

"Unfortunately, I'm not Adalei." He shrugged, straightening his posture before stalking around the table, a shark circling struggling prey. "No, I'll ensure your well-being. Physically speaking, at least." He stopped as Lan's heart skipped. "I don't know how well you'll handle this mentally," he added, a pulse of Nen summoning an insect to his hand. Deceptively small, with a red body dotted with spots, the pincers of an ant and the stinger of a scorpion: another chimera ant bred from a sun-gazer scorpion. She leaned away from his hand, flaring Arri over her body. This was an experience she didn't want. Ever. A whale-paralyzer snakebite was nothing compared to the hell that this hybrid's would be. "You recognize what it is, then. That makes the explanation easier," he said, turning his hand over as the chimera ant paced. "If you believe you're safe behind your aura, I'm afraid you're mistaken."

Lanfen flinched, chair legs dragging on the floor startling her. Her attention ever so briefly flickered to Joan as he stood, as he brushed his hair back into place. "Fire's not just for show, kid," he said. A burst of flames over his hands, brilliant, blinding, reds and oranges reflected in his eyes, on the metal of the room, Lan bit her quivering lip. "It can burn a lot of stuff."

"And," Virgil continued, digging in his pocket to retrieve a small vial, "in case you were concerned, Circe gave me something to counteract the venom's paralytic. If you don't scream out something useful while hallucinating, or tell us after, then this is how you're spending the rest of your life." A threatening step forward, Joan at his side, her heart beat against her ribs, sound deafening. "Last chance."

Arri shifted, emerged, jaw snapping at Virgil's arm. Joan rammed his shoulder into Arri. In lightning redirection, Arri's teeth dug into the metal table, at the restraint around her wrist. A burst of flames heated the room, tongues of fire violent red. Lan held back a scream, eyes on the metal bending under Arri, pinching her wrist, refusing to break. Minji's Nen, a violet sheen, repaired damage.

Joan's fist crashed through Arri. She covered her body, still pulling against metal, wrists bloody. Joan grabbed her arm, grip threatening to snap it.

Then fire. Fire erupted over Joan, over her. The roar of flames, drumbeat heartbeat, drowned her scream. The aura around her arm burned, faded. Charred sleeve torn away, flames glinting off glasses, above the heat and the fear, she barely felt it.

A pin-prick sting before the plummet into hell.

* * *

Minji wordlessly left, the door closing softly behind her. Joan sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He could never read her damn expression.

He had to call her in to change how the restraints were around Lanfen. The kid… she kept thrashing, pulling against metal hard enough to cut exposed skin and bruise everywhere else. Minji also managed to bandage some of the scrapes while Lanfen flailed.

Lanfen screamed again, voice so hoarse from prolonged screaming that it became a horrific, barely human screech. She frantically tried to escape hallucinations, words panicked gibberish. The poor girl's face was wet with a mix of tears, spit, and vomit. Her aura flared around her again, out of control, fox snapping at air, crashing into anything nearby. Her Nen had become a constant discomfort, like knives stabbing into him, twisting painfully in his gut.

He remembered pain. And this, her aura, would have been unbearable.

"Joan, you know this is for-"

"Shut up," he snapped. He didn't care for Stink-bug's input right now. He watched as Lanfen cowered, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face again. Joan wasn't some kid born in the land of depravity and deprivation. He might not have outstanding morals, or be a 'good guy' by any means, but this…

This was fucked up.

She was Jingyi's baby girl. This was the little shit that would throw paint in his face and cackle maniacally. The same brat that would pull his hair and ear if he wasn't paying enough attention to her. The little terror that liked to kick him and toddle away as he pretended to chase her. The same kid that would offer him her toys when she thought she'd upset him too much.

And now…

Before her throat was raw from screaming, her mumbling had been coherent. Fire, she had repeated fire so many fucking times, voice quivering as she tried to claw her way to freedom. Then choking on air, coughing like her lungs were burning when she failed to escape… Back at the compound, wherever she'd been hidden as a kid, the fire had almost killed her. He remembered what it was fucking like, burning alive in searing heat, suffocating under thick smoke. Unlike him, that experience gave her a crippling phobia- of fire _and_ him. He supposed he had to get over any fear, when he was dumped in Meteor City to fend for himself, and then again when Fanghe suggested a fire ability. Lanfen'd been running her whole life.

Another hoarse scream echoed on metal walls, the pit in his stomach making him sick. He hung his head again.

It was pretty damn obvious she knew nothing. Why would she? She'd been fucking three when that shitshow of a party happened. It was _Minji_ that had convinced them that Lanfen had a physical clue, that they needed to take her alive or they'd lose it. They had believed her, once. Fanghe had had something big planned that night, something more than killing the Bai Ze assassins targeting the Paijin, and she probably told Taakya and Minji everything outright. Taakya, because she controlled security and communications. Minji, because she would be protecting Jingyi and Lanfen. Then Taakya had missed an update. He had passed Minji and Lanfen on his way to check on Taakya. When he found her… He had found Taakya with her throat hacked open, the room painted in blood spatter. Would've been fast, but, god, she was just a kid too.

Minji had been the last of the Fan Shi with Lanfen, toting her along to meet with Fanghe. That night, Minji had been the last one with _Fanghe_. Minji had declared retreat after she stitched her neck together and found Fanghe dead at the hands of a Zoldyck. _Minji_ knew more than something. He bet she knew everything.

But then she fucking lied. Telling them that Fanghe killed Taakya, what a load of shit. The Bai Ze or Libao had hired the Zoldycks. Two of them. One went after Fanghe and the other the Fan Shi. Taakya and Minji just happened to be first, and Minji happened to live because she couldn't pass out from pain and somehow managed to perform surgery on herself.

That's why he thought, maybe, if Lanfen did know anything, they'd quickly scare it out of her. But, more importantly, he hoped Minji would intervene and reveal the truth. He misjudged her capacity to give a crap.

More delirious tears, Lanfen crying out, Joan gave up. "We aren't doing this again." Virgil's glare on him, "Shut up," he added preemptively. "There's no point. Just accept she beat you, because I know you see there's no fucking reason to do this again. She doesn't know anything." He stood, pacing, fists curled at his sides. "We'll have to work with Minji, for now." At least until they had the item. Then she could fuck off as they achieved Fanghe's goals. "Go get Circe."

"You're doing exactly what she wants," Virgil warned, shoving a hand in his pocket after adjusting his dumb glasses. "She knew that a few tears from the kid would be enough for you to break down and ask her for help." He lazily stepped away from the wall, careful to avoid Lanfen as her aura whipped around the room, a whirlwind of knives. "If you think we absolutely must have her help," he muttered, glasses down his nose again as he walked to the door, limp in his step. "As soon as we have a location or the item itself, Minji, as well as Sybil and Circe, must die. Otherwise, they're likely to stab us in the back and sully Fanghe's wishes. The Fan Shi, we're the only dedicated members left."

"I know," Joan solemnly agreed as Virgil opened the door. "I know, Stink-bug, we gotta stick together."

Virgil scoffed at the nickname. A nickname all the way back from his youth in Meteor City, smelling worse than the garbage around him, bugs clinging to him like a private army. "Right, Half-face," he insulted back, stepping out, door closing behind him.

Left in a room with a whimpering, hallucinating Lanfen, Joan sat back down. He pulled her phone out of his pocket, turned it on with the last bit of battery power it had. He'd gone through it after confiscating it, earlier. More reasons to feel bad about shackling her up was what he found. He had more pictures of the Fan Shi, with and without him in the shot, than Lanfen had with any of her friends- if she even had any. He stared at the short list of contacts another moment, deciding which to try. All pictures instead of names: a fist, a boat, a sprout, and card suits.

Only one seemed obvious.

* * *

Hisoka dug his phone out of his pocket, expecting yet another _rule_ for this engagement. Chrollo was apparently forming truces in his spare time, narrowing the list of people Hisoka got to fight. He was _not_ sharing an opponent when they _finally_ reached the base.

The number had him answering on the second ring. Machi glanced at him from the corner of her eye, already suspect.

Above all else, Hisoka heard Lan. The sound of whimpering gave a strange initial reaction of boiling rage instead of pleasure. Because he knew. He knew what it took to make that girl scream and cry. And to be reduced to an anguished mess of sobbing tears audible in the background of a call? Whatever they had done had physically damaged her beyond repair or frightened her so severely they might have broken her mind. He didn't much like either of those options, _because she was his_.

"You know where the item is?" a tired, low voice asked without introduction. Hisoka almost ignored him.

"No," he answered tersely, not even pretending to be amused at this point. He felt more Spider eyes fall on him. "Who might you be?"

"Figured as much," the man grumbled, ignoring the question. Not that it mattered. He was dead regardless. "You're one of her friends, right? Can you calm Lanfen down or something? She's…" he trailed off with a sigh. "Just talk to her or something."

He wordlessly waited. The man would undoubtedly be listening in. He couldn't tell Lan that they were on their way to rescue her, that their arrival would be within a few hours at most. Not to comfort her, obviously, but keep her from doing something stupid in the meantime. She could be such an anxious, yet incredibly stubborn and petty, thing. Panicked enough by the threat of death, she may decide to get herself killed on her own terms.

The whimpering louder, he wagered the phone was near her. "Fledgling, listen." He received no recognition, no response. Had they drugged her with something? Or had a Nen ability been used on her? She mustn't be all there if she failed to react to his voice. "Darling," he cooed, "it's Hisoka."

Finally, he had her attention, whining interrupted as she stammered, "Hi- Hiso- Hisoka?" He hummed to confirm, her sniffling bothering him. She was more afraid now than when he had choked her. "Help me," she begged, voice breaking, rough. She had been screaming. A lot. "P-please help. I'm s-sor-sorry." He never thought he would be livid at her pleading, but his smile slid from his face. Mainly because he wasn't the cause. This her, this her belonged only to him. "I d-didn't… Chr-Chroll-" She thought he was dead, didn't she? Fantastic. She had no idea they were on the way to help her. With her blubbering, he doubted she would even remember this conversation.

"Shh, don't worry. No one else is allowed to kill you, Lan," he said in hollow comfort, knowing he could do nothing to help bring her down from hysteria. Talking to her right now was essentially pointless. He should have just hung up, yet he continued. "I promised that, didn't I?" That might be the only _promise_ he intended to keep. And, while most likely pointless given her state, he may as well try to give her a bit of hope to cling to, so she didn't kill herself trying to escape on her own. "We will-"

The call ended abruptly.

He lowered his phone, absolutely no regard for those around him. He just kept a smile plastered to his face as he contemplated _very_ violent things.

"That the girl?" Nobunaga so tactfully asked, ignoring the mood and bloodlust hanging over Hisoka like he had a death wish. He scratched his chest, not so subtly setting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Hisoka accidentally cracked his phone's screen with his vice hold on it. If the Phantom Troupe didn't offer a convenient distraction as he went after his own targets and Lan, he might have taken Nobunaga up on that wish. Not that it would be an interesting fight. He just wanted to kill something right now. "I am claiming one of the Fan Shi for myself," he said with a grin. For breaking what was his.

"Just one?" Franklin pointed out, dubious. Hisoka was usually oh-so-happy to fight everyone with a fraction of entertainment value.

"Remember," Machi warned, "you said Danchou agreed to spare Circe and Minji."

"On the condition that the girl is alive when we arrive," Bonolenov added from beneath his wraps. Those were near exactly Chrollo's words. He very much wanted her back, to the degree his orders reflected losing her was like losing one of his precious limbs. Hisoka considered not telling them that stipulation, but he also wanted Lan alive.

Hisoka was losing interest in their conversation, currently. Though the alternative was his thoughts, and he didn't want to consider those either. He should not be so, dare he say, _upset_ , with everything related to Lan. Such a frustrating, vexing, matter, his fledgling.

Nobunaga scoffed. "You sure Danchou actually said that?" His eyes fell on Hisoka, and Hisoka wished he had been lying to save his fledgling. No, Chrollo was more attached to Lan than he had wanted to believe.

"Danchou wants her to join," Machi stated, so matter-of-fact as she kept their pace in check.

Hisoka's smile twitched, threatened to disappear again. He didn't like the idea of Lan joining the Spider. That would make her Chrollo's, his mark a permanent fixture on her skin. That image was more troubling than Lan simply spreading her legs for him for the fun of it.

"Yeah, right." Nobunaga waved off the idea. "Someone that gets captured like this isn't cut out for the Spider."

"What about that kid?"

He lost interest as Nobunaga defended the idea of Gon as a Spider.

He decided it didn't matter _why_ he was so hung up on her. In fact, he might feel that way just because Chrollo was trying so hard to steal her that he made it an amusing challenge. Hisoka wanted her, so he would have her. That was all the motivation he ever needed. And, if _anyone_ got in the way, then he would just remove them.

A few more hours and obstacle number one would be out of the way.

* * *

Lan stared into space. Her cheeks were still damp with tears brought on by the hallucination hell she had been subjected to, subjugated by. Painted with all her worst fears, line between reality and illusion so blurred she was unsure, afraid, to know what had been real.

An amalgamation of fears, she remembered everything in horrifying, reality-warping detail.

Had they burned her? She remembered being coated in flames, terrified, nose filled with acrid burning flesh and lungs choked by smoke. Had they drowned her? She remembered her head forced under cold, dark water, feeling her lungs fill with water as she desperately searched for the surface, clawed at hands holding her under. Had she suddenly caught a deadly illness? She remembered throwing up pools of blood, listless, bones threatening to poke through paper skin. Had they finished killing the few dear to her? She remembered corpses blistered with burns, limbs and guts strewn on the ground, expressions twisted in agony mocking her, blaming her. Or, had they just kept torturing her? She remembered splintered bone stabbed through raw flesh, joints dislocated, hands on her throat, and bruises over her body. At some desperate point, she even hallucinated Hisoka at her side, mocking her with promises.

No one was coming for her.

She was all alone. She had to save herself, or she would remain here, strapped down, subject to more hallucinations more painful than any physical torture. Anything was better than that, right? The fallout of breaking restrictions… That didn't matter. Not now.

She struggled to reach her pocket, to tug on the corner of a bandana peeking out. Skulls and angel wings and crosses, a deliriously bitter and weak smile pulled at her lips. Appropriate, considering this was her damnation or salvation. The watch slid from its hiding place in the folds of the bandana. A miracle, they hadn't searched for more than her phone. Her fingers shook as she held the watch, stared at the hands slowly ticking time away.

If this was the end, then so be it. She was out of other options.


	34. God Complex: Divine Retribution

"Where is it, Minji?" Joan's jaw set, teeth grinding together. She remained silent, face blank, hands clasped behind her back. Cornered without her witches in tow, she could hold a poker face without a flicker of fear.

"We'd know if you kept to the plan," Adalei complained behind him, stumbling onto the conversation without reading the atmosphere. Instead of ganging up on Minji with him, she chose to berate him for his decision. "But _no_ , a few tears and you're all sympathetic and ready to beg." Fuck Stink-bug for telling Adalei he had given up on questioning the kid.

"What the hell are you planning?" He stared at Minji, focusing on her, Adalei just a bit player. "Because it's starting to look like you lied about this supposed _clue_."

Minji's eye narrowed ever slightly, raspy voice irritatingly calm as she began, "Then allow me-"

"So you can lie about that, too?" he snapped. Only one damn thing made the bitch's façade falter. He didn't want to hear another lie. Not about Fanghe.

Adalei stomped closer, aura flickering, sucking the air out of his lungs like a weight on the chest. Her time at Heaven's Arena, she had become more demanding, used to being worshiped or feared. "If you don't tell us where it is," she snarled, spit flying, "I'll kill you!"

He whipped around, Nen flared to combat hers. "Shut up and fuck off, Adalei! You're not helping, damn it!" She was in the way, causing distraction. Next, Minji would be a useless blood splatter. Adalei's face twisted with anger, her aura swelling at being challenged. A solid moment of clashing glares passed before she huffed, looked to the side with a hand on her hip. "Paperclips," Joan started again, eye back on target, "talk."

"It's real."

Two words. Two fucking words were all she could be bothered to give him. He stepped forward, a threat before an act. She remained in place, unflinching, expecting him to back down without further explanation. But that time was long fucking gone.

"Then tell me how we get it!" His voice rose from a hiss to a shout, his patience fried. "Are you trying to take it for yourself?" The dodging questions, the vague, half-assed explanations, the plotting behind his back with Circe and Sybil, Minji wouldn't do all that for the hell of it. She had an end-game. Her attitude screamed she had already declared checkmate.

That snapped her cool, metal scraping metal as she clenched her prosthesis' hand. "I don't want Fanghe's damned item, Half-face." The insult of the nickname was lost in the loathing as she said Fanghe.

Where the fuck did she get off cursing her name? Fanghe saved her ass from rotting under the harsh Meteor City sun. So what if that infection still ended up taking an arm, a leg, and half of her face? She was alive, and she was only alive because of Fanghe. Fanghe saved them all from living in that garbage pit the rest of their short fucking lives. She gifted them with Nen, trained them to be more than pathetic orphans with one foot in the grave. Fanghe was the only reason Minji could even pretend to play doctor. She gave them a family when no one else fucking would.

She gave them everything!

They owed their continued existence to Fanghe. To say that her kindness had all been a lie, that they were expendable pawns, that Fanghe would have killed them herself…

His hand curled into a tight fist.

He would never believe that. Even from Minji. Fanghe throwing them away to claim her position as head of the Paijin family, he refused, because she… She was like a fucking mother to them! She loved them! She raised them! He refused to think that that had all been an act. It wasn't. It'd been real… Fanghe might have been part of a human and drug trafficking syndicate, but he came from mafia blood too. His fucked over face or Fanghe's being a girl, he understood what it was like to be abandoned by the family for superficial garbage they had no control over.

She wouldn't have done that to them. Never.

"If you don't want the item, then what does Lanfen have?" Minji had been devastated when they thought they had killed Lanfen. She disappeared with Circe for two entire damn years over it. Whatever Lanfen had, it was important, but it also wasn't Lanfen herself. If she fucking cared, she wouldn't have let them torture her. His voice dropped, his aura heating the air, as he asked again, "Why shouldn't I kill you?"

"Fanghe killed Taakya." Violet glowed around her, metal prostheses shaking with as much tension as her flesh and muscle. Minji took a step forward, closing the small gap. Even with his aura flared around him, hers sent a chill down his spine. She pointed to her neck, to the ragged scar. "And then she tried to kill me."

"The assassins-"

"The Zoldycks don't fail, Joan."

"Then give me one fucking reason that she would betray us! We're family! Fanghe-"

Blades pressed to skin, slicing, a phantom sense of pain searing as air bit at imaginary wounds, they froze, eyes wide. The incredible surge of aura. The terror twisted with hatred. The bloodlust hanging over them like a guillotine.

"What the," he said, trailing off in near-reverence. The insane spike in power was a far cry from their scuffle at the compound. This wasn't the same kid. Couldn't be with how she went from an irritating nuisance to an outright threat.

A second burst, the lung-crushing weight, Joan and Minji looked to each other.

"Adalei," they said, faces' lit with fresh terror.

He whipped around, foot digging into the ground. Metal wrapped around his ankle, kept him in place. He glared over his shoulder, burst of flames a warning, fury painting his expression.

"Joan," Minji began, narrowing her eye as she flooded Nen into her leg to twisted metal and manipulate the shape. "Whatever ability Lanfen has triggered, it was out of complete desperation. She is prepared to throw her life away if it means escaping further torture."

Said like a blame, his jaw clenched tighter. If he went, Lanfen would snap- if she hadn't already. But… "You want to leave Adalei alone?" Like this, Lanfen might be able to severely injure Adalei, maybe even kill her depending on what other tricks she had. And Minji _wanted_ him to do _nothing_. At the same time, he knew. Once Adalei started fighting, she wouldn't be easily stopped. If he went in there, Lanfen would probably fixate on killing him, leave herself open to Adalei. Allowing them to exhaust each other was a better strategy than barging in himself.

"Do you want to risk losing Lanfen over Adalei?" she asked, unconvinced he understood the dangers.

He was prepared to argue on principle, stopped by the desperate ring of his phone. He had it to his ear before the first ring ended. Better be Stink-bug on his way to help. Fuck, he'd take Circe to waiting to see how much Adalei and Lanfen could tear each other apart before exhausting themselves. Poisoning them would stop the fight immediately.

"Adalei just-"

"We're dead," Virgil said over him, voice unusually dull. "Joan, we screwed up. That guy," he mumbled, a delirious laugh following. "That guy that had been with Lanfen, even if he didn't have Nen currently, I should have recognized… The one we killed, he-"

"Virgil, what's wrong?"

"That was Chrollo _Lucilfer_."

His phone clattered on the floor. Joan forgot about Minji, about Adalei, even about Lanfen, as that information sunk in to make his heart pound into his ear. Because that… That was the leader of… They'd heard her mumbling something like Chrollo, but they didn't expect…

"Shit," he cursed, swiping his phone from the floor, screen cracked.

"The Phantom Troupe, four plus the clown, triggered one of the outer alarms. Purposefully, I might add," Virgil said with another nervous laugh. "I would say they're not too pleased with us. I've already called Circe and Sybil to meet them up top." He paused, serious as he said, "If we have any hopes of surviving this, we have to work together. Adalei's a lost cause. The moment you can get to Lanfen, take her and run." Joan swallowed down a complaint, because buried in that statement… Virgil was prepared to sacrifice himself for the item. The call disconnected, his decision made, no room for argument.

"Joan," Minji demanded, her metal still wrapped around his leg. He shoved his phone away, looked over his shoulder at her impassive face. He would have to deal with her, then. It's the least he could do.

"You fucking knew, didn't you?" Circe had _claimed_ she had killed him- not that it mattered, considering those psychos rampaged to steal or to avenge. Minji had mentored one of the Spiders, as well. Either one of them could have fucking told the Phantom Troupe their location. "You knew that Lanfen's friend was Lucilfer!"

If it was possible for Minji to get any paler, she did, skin ashen with horror- fake or real, he couldn't tell. "Sybil didn't…" She released his leg, metal coiling together as she stepped back. Her aura remained tense, ready to do more than restrain, contradicting her supposed innocence. "I will wait to clean up the aftermath of Adalei and Lanfen's fight," she offered, seeing he didn't believe her claims. She'd known. For how long, it didn't matter. "In order to that, I need to be alive."

"Then tell me." He crossed his arms over his chest, peering down his nose. "Even if she's hurt, I can do enough to keep her alive. I can have another doctor cut into her if that's what it takes." He didn't reform ties with the Yorknew mob to not use them. A shady underworld doctor would solve his problems just as well as Minji could. The only reason he didn't replace her was her adamancy that _she_ knew how to get the clue. That _only_ she could do it. He gave her too many chances already. "I don't need you. I'm done humoring you. If you're really so important, tell me why I can't kill you."

"If I die, its unreachable."

Her lips pressed together as she took a step back, maintaining distance as he advanced. Licks of flames threatened the room.

"Explain. Now."

* * *

Lan's heart pounded, blood rushing behind her ears. A crushing aura approached, the distant discomfort of flames and ice lost beneath it. She ripped at her arm, metal digging into her scraped-raw wrist to no avail, her eyes focused on the watch clutched in her fingers. Terrified, time crawled to an eternity a second.

What was she doing? Making a decision after a high-stress moment, her brain melted with psychological agony and phantasmal memories, time, time had passed, and, again, she regretted a snap decision made in panic. Nen restrictions came with repercussions. Always. Usually greater than the power received. If only one lesson from flitty Shunru had reached her, it was that playing with conditions of great magnitudes was like playing with matches while dosed in gasoline.

God Complex was the end-all of her abilities, a tight knot of restrictions, conditions, and repercussions. An untested disaster with no guarantees under normal circumstances…

_CRASH!_

Lan startled, watch's glass shattering. Adalei stepped inside, dropping the hinge-removed door with another bang. Her mouth twisted as she began to shout, but Lanfen heard nothing. Eyes fixed wide, her heartbeat skipped.

Everything stopped.

A broken pipe bursting, a drip of aura became a flood, Nen swelling beyond limitations. Lan watched in awestruck horror as her aura seeped from every pore, pooled around her skin, dark, heavy, _powerful_.

Adalei charged, time spiraling to normal. Arri flared over her, Lan pulling her arms, metal restraints screaming, falling away as her aura finally overpowered Minji's. She rolled off the table as Adalei's fist struck. In the fractional moment as she pried her fist from indented metal, Lan scrambled to dart away.

A strike shook her balance. A glancing blow to her shoulder, felt through God Complex's ridiculous boost… Lan whipped around after stumbling a few steps, another set not crashing after her. Adalei shook her hand, annoyed or impressed, her knuckles bloody. Little damage for a boosted Arri, yet… Lan might have been more discouraged if her shoulder had been shattered. Watching Adalei wipe her knuckles on her clothes, Lan celebrated the small victory of breaking free from Minji's Nen and breaking through an aura-enhanced fist.

Victories were always fleeting.

"The hell did you do, kid?" Adalei chuckled, eyes alight with battle-taken passion Lan had never wished to see again. Against reason, Adalei's aura bared down on the room, stifling, breath-stealing. "Should have done this back at the compound instead of crying like a baby."

Lan tensed, flared Arri to new extremes. There would be no running. Adalei had forgone whatever orders she had been given, the Fan Shi squabbling amongst itself, the mix of wrathful auras moments prior proof.

Lan swallowed harshly. She took a hesitant step back as Adalei twitched to move, cornering prey.

God Complex had supplied, undoubtedly, unfortunately, _temporary_ energy. Using this much Nen at once, eating her own life source, if it didn't exhaust her first, it would kill her. Nemmi also failed to reform. A complication of broken restrictions or ill-prepared conditions…

Lan threw herself to the side. Adalei's fist followed, wind slapping her face. Lan lashed out with Arri, fast, chaotic, strong with excess energy. Its jaw snapped over Adalei's arm. Teeth raked through flesh as Lan sprinted away to hollow safety. The ceiling crumbled as Adalei swung upwards to remove Arri's jaw. Chunks falling, the danger of staying in the small room… But the danger of leaving, God Complex might shut down.

She never considered what followed a breach beyond power. She never specified an off-switch condition. Ever fickle Nen may determine her life as much as the battle itself.

Adalei drew back her arm, red aura a vortex. As she punched, the aura parted, strands lashing. Energy whips tore through metal flooring. Lan leapt to the side, Arri focused on her exposed side a prayer. A whip decimated Arri as it lingered a fractional distance from skin. Dispersed, sliced through, Lan spun on her heel. The wall to her side erupted with debris. Dust clouding the air offered brief cover.

Adalei was an enhancer, a cross-category emitter if she believed Chrollo's musings about the item helping bridge types. A distance hit won out even against a strengthened Arri. Being trapped in close range would be a death sentence and a likelihood in this coffin-sized room.

Steps thundered as Adalei charged impatiently, blindly. Lan dove to the floor before a blast of air cleared dust. At the gap in the wall, expecting her to flee, Adalei raised her right arm. A fox-shaped onslaught of Nen sunk fangs into flesh, tearing, ripping. Adalei stumbled as Arri wrenched her arm backward, balance offset. Arri fought her to the ground, forced her to decide what which parts to protect, which to lose.

Lan peeked over the overturned table, manipulating Arri from relative safety. Adalei pulled at her arm, snarling, fangs sawing past aura to skin. Like she thought, Adalei preferred to launch attacks from her dominant arm. She also protected her vitals over her limbs, redistributing aura accordingly. Lan risked pouring more energy into Arri. Enough wounds, enough blood, and this would end. Every cut counted.

A snap redirect and Adalei exposed her arm to favor a leg. Ko would break through. Teeth met bone. Arri ripped its head to the side at her command, skin flaying in raw red strips. As much damage as-

Adalei's foot crashed through Arri's stomach. Lan clenched her teeth, white-knuckle grip on metal pried from the ground; she would have been launched into the ceiling, otherwise. The disconnect between two halves forcibly dispersed Arri from a fox to an offshoot of energy she desperately pulled around herself. Adalei pushed herself from the ground, blood running down her arm.

She chose to laugh at the shredded flesh. She even moved it, pumped more blood from wounds. "You know, I've had my arms torn off at Heaven's Arena quite a lot. Always a crowd-pleaser."

Lan sucked in a breath when Adalei tensed her muscles, blood flow slowing to a drip easily clotted closed. At the compound, Nemmi had slashed her back open only for her to do this. Bleeding out, the easy option, never seemed to be available to her. Instead, it was used against her. A lost limb from an energy whip would kill her, while Adalei could be slashed to pieces as long as her muscles functioned enough to tense, pain-free nature worsening Lan's odds.

"I always win in the end, so this? This is nothing, kid." Blood smeared her side as she wiped her arm off. Mockingly, she held it out, confirmed the stemmed bleeding. "That's why it's a shame I haven't gotten to fight your clown friend. I wanted to know who could stand having the most limbs removed."

Hisoka. What had she learned fighting him that she could apply now? The two were both physically overwhelming, though Adalei relied solely on that. Mind games and magic tricks? Lan didn't have In to pull off tricks. Adalei didn't have obvious doubts to exploit. Enhancers were always difficult…

What else did she have?

Adalei's raised arm cut thought short. Despite the injury, she would use that arm until it was torn from her body. Then she had another arm. There was also a possibility she could still control her aura enough to attack without limbs. Death, death was the only solution.

Lan ducked behind the table as Adalei punched air. Tendrils of energy slashed apart the walls, ate through metal and concrete and anything that dared stand in its path. While Adalei turned, Lan scrambled to the opposite side of the room.

New plan. Adalei had to brace herself to swing her aura whips. Risky… but all she had.

Lan waited as Adalei straightened her back, gathered more brilliant aura over a fist, lighting a wicked smile red. She whipped her arm to the side to try slicing Lan into pieces. Carefully, precisely, Lan jumped. Her feet touched down at Adalei's exposed side partway through her swing, no time to redirect. Aim low, her knees bending in preparation to flee, Arri flared over her. Fur bristled, daggers of aura caught Adalei's calf.

The moment Lan tucked to roll to safety, Adalei spun on her heel.

Spit flew from her mouth as Adalei's foot dug into her stomach. Her back met metal. The concrete behind it shattered, shards splintering, sent every direction. But she remembered. She remembered Feitan hitting her through a wall. She had focused Arri over her back to protect herself.

As she picked herself off the ground, she struggled to continue that supposed new plan. God Complex remained in place despite the venue change. But that hit, it proved any strike from Adalei would be damaging, a kick no exception. Adalei's silhouette in fresh dust made Lan chew on her rubble-covered lip, grit on her tongue.

To slow Adalei, taking a leg would be necessary. From the knee down would disrupt her stance while preventing her from easily resting on a stub.

Instead of crashing into the room, Adalei's shadow loomed on the other side. Another fatal red glow sent Lanfen skittering to the side a moment too late. The air cracked with another lash of energy. She felt two tendrils dig into her back before slamming her into the opposite wall. She fell from indented sheetrock, face dragging on the way down. She sucked in a sharp breath, coughing, struggling back to her feet.

Without Arri, she would be in three pieces. Shifting Arri from her body might be the last mistake she made, but getting close was just as risky, and-

Thundering steps, Lan whipped around, pushed off the wall in the last second before flipping to her feet. Adalei spun on her heel, wall caving from a missed strike. A strike that would have hit Lan in the face. Lan subconsciously stepped back, eyes trained on the woman. The curve of her lips and the white of her teeth, the sheer delight in that snarling grin…

She was aiming to kill.

The sense of impending doom as Sybil's aura rained down from above tightened her chest.

* * *

The coordinates led them to an abandoned industrial area filled with decaying warehouses and factories. Stale air, dust filtering through the low afternoon sun, no one appeared to be around, yet, open doors invited them inside.

Without pause, they entered.

They had a mission to accomplish. As simple as that. After all, they had more worthwhile endeavors to attend to, like finding a Nen exorcist. All the bored bickering was left at the door to complete this mission to get back on task. Nobunaga stewed with denial, tirelessly arguing that Danchou would never invite Hisoka's… A lot of words were thrown around, and none were particularly nice. In any case, Machi wagered that Danchou wanted Lanfen to join, her intuition and simple logic enough evidence. For once, she didn't think Hisoka had been lying when he said Danchou wanted Lanfen's life over the item's retrieval.

Not that their take on the situation mattered. Danchou wanted them here, so they were.

Five were met by two in an expansive, empty room.

A man fiddling with his glasses, bandages covering his body an obvious clue he would be fighting while injured. Virgil, she recalled.

While she no longer matched her sister, hair shorter, pastel dye fading, Machi recognized Circe. They had met, once, while Minji was mentoring her. Circe was Minji's girlfriend, it was obvious she would be here to defend her through whatever plot had split the Fan Shi.

Sybil's conspicuous absence revealed their most troublesome obstacle. Lurking somewhere nearby, Apocalypse Countdown would appear, power reaching its upper limits. She tended to make a grand entrance, so it would hardly be a surprise when the roof disappeared.

All the aura hanging around the building didn't belong to her, though.

"Hello, Machi!" Circe gave an exaggerated wave. Abysmally cheerful, and a bit too much like Hisoka at times, Machi stared blankly in response. "How are you today?"

"Is Lanfen still alive?" she asked bluntly. The aura creeping from underground, she guessed that was Lanfen fighting against one of the Fan Shi, and Circe wouldn't be standing here if it was Minji.

"Do you expect us-"

"In the basement," Circe answered over Virgil. She lost her smile to add, "Though, we've had a slight mishap. I don't intend to let you get further than this. For now, anyway."

Lanfen was fighting a precarious battle, then. The terms Danchou 'negotiated' were that Lanfen needed to be alive for them to even humor the idea of sparing anyone. She didn't know how serious Hisoka's words had been, if his weird obsession didn't twist Danchou's orders to his favor, but he seemed convinced Danchou wanted the Fan Shi wiped out if they couldn't retrieve Lanfen. At some point, he had decided the item's value didn't match the girl's potential worth.

Tense silence ended with the overdramatic click of heels on concrete.

"Oh, well, I suppose retrieving darling Lan will fall to me," Hisoka heroically volunteered, hand on his chest. "Don't have too much fun without me."

No one kept him from strutting off on his own. Really, the Phantom Troupe didn't know what to think about the clown's obsession with Lanfen. On one hand, it was completely normal for Hisoka to claim a target's life and then relentlessly stalk them. On the other, he seemed a bit _too_ invested in keeping Lanfen alive considering he had almost killed her in Yorknew. Machi sort of… pitied her, she guessed, because Hisoka was an annoying creep and a traitor.

Circe pointed him to a door, blocking Virgil's path in the same movement. "Adalei wanted to fight him. So much so that he may distract her from Lanfen." She smiled when her fair-weather ally gritted his teeth, accepting the logic while knowing Circe would have let Hisoka go regardless. Circe turned her attention back to Machi, raising an eyebrow. "Lanfen has some strange tastes. He's not part of the Troupe, is he?"

"Not anymore," Machi said, Nobunaga offendedly snapping, "No!" behind her.

Circe whistled, lazily leaning back to look at the ceiling. "Must be awkward." She smiled, raising her hands, aura sparking. Her eyes fell on them as she added, "Well, let's have some fun. Nymph Dance."

The next fraction of a moment witnessed a catastrophic release of Nen. Circe surrounded herself with wisps of energy shrieking a siren song. The air buzzed with the sudden appearance of millions of bugs swarming in a black haze. Franklin's finger-caps dropped open to fire a round of bullets, while Machi ripped a needle from her glove, thread glowing, and Nobunaga drew his sword. Bonolenov stepped back, bandages unraveling, another whistling chorus to chaos.

In the din of gunfire, explosions, and beating wings, metal twisted, beams tearing. The roof peeled away under gargantuan clawed fingers, sets of glassy fish eyes glowing in the sunlight. Apocalypse Countdown shrieked as it tossed away the crumbled remains of the roof, tentacles invading the building's interior.

"Chrollo ready to give it back yet?" Sybil screamed, perched on her creature's shoulder, desperately trying to call unsurprised eyes to her.

Machi instead glanced at Circe, the other woman holding a finger to her lips. Learning Chrollo had been cursed and subsequently lost access to her ability would only make her more irritating to deal with. Circe understood that her sister's life wasn't guaranteed. Danchou might like her ability, but he was had no qualms about losing it if it meant being rid of her bothersome interruptions (or maybe because she burned one too many rare books out of spite).

Sybil's taunts falling on an uncaring audience and Bonolenov preparing an attack prompted an indignant huff. Claws grasped her body, tossed her into a gaping, teeth-lined mouth. Her aura focused near entirely in her creature, she would have been defenseless to projectiles. Once swallowed, the behemoth's tentacles lashed out with utter abandon, Sybil now hiding behind thick armor.

Machi pulled her thread taut, lacing together tentacles, purposefully keeping them whole to bind them in place. A few precise hits from Bonolenov to crack the armor and they could drag Sybil out to finish her.

Nobunaga hacked away at the creature as Franklin fired round after round. Circe continued to call forth more 'nymphs' while dodging stray projectiles and tentacles. Bullets striking her Nen caused blinding explosions that shook the air. Bugs swarmed, simple flies joined by familiar wasps and foreign scorpions. Insects not caught in the crossfire obscured vision.

Virgil disappeared in the destruction.

* * *

"You betrayed us!"

The voice carried down the corridor. The same voice he had heard over the phone, in a room with his terror-stricken fledgling.

"You sold us out for- for-"

Fury, hurt, Hisoka didn't care about the emotions carried in the shouts. The commotion from above barely reached his ears over his irritation, his longing. His hands clenched at his side, he wanted to kill something, someone. Not for Lan, but for himself. Because, if she was broken, if someone dared interfere with his plans, his vague, vague plans, for her…

He wasn't done with her. She wasn't allowed to die.

The corridor ended, a sliver of light spilling from a cracked open door. He flung it aside, making an entrance, two occupants' eyes shooting to him. That attention lasted a whole of one second, the man's ire back on the woman opposite of him.

"Joan," the woman stated, voice flat but urgent.

"You bitch, you-"

"My, my, this doesn't seem the time for an argument," Hisoka interrupted, not caring to listen. Several cards drove his point home. Gold eyes drifted to the snowy-haired woman while this Joan fumed, cards ashes at his feet. "If you happen to be Minji, I would scurry away. I don't take orders from dear Chrollo anymore." Unworthy of a fight, he waved her away. He would _humor_ , not obediently follow, orders. Unless this Minji got in the way or tried to torment his Lan the way the man had; then he certainly wouldn't. A half-decent fight or otherwise, Joan would be dead. Then the floor master currently harassing his darling. Then Sybil, for fun.

The woman smartly turned to run. Joan moved to pursue, hand outstretched, aura glowing hot. Another round of cards breezed by, imbedding in the opposite wall.

"Now, now," he chided, shuffling his deck between his hands. The woman disappearing down a hall was what finally caused the man to look at him. Even then, he didn't turn more than his head, contemplating chasing after her instead. Air heavy with bloodlust, wicked grin on his painted face, Hisoka made it clear. "I'm your opponent."

"Hisoka, right? Joan." He offhandedly pointed to himself before jabbing a finger in the direction of familiar auras. "Listen, Lanfen's fighting Adalei. You should-"

"She can handle herself." At least until he was done here. Adalei liked to play with her prey. She may struggle against an enhancer, find herself beaten into the ground with deep gouges from energy whips, but Lan could withstand a few broken bones and lacerations- he'd trained her to take more. After all, he would be at her side momentarily to heroically save her, and then deliver her to Machi for proper patching up. The experience would do her well, truthfully. A lack of physical pain hindered her learning; crushing her pride was more effective.

And, if she was so broken, so incapable of fighting a stronger opponent for but a few moments, he didn't really want her back. A shame, given her potential.

Joan had the audacity to look appalled.

Hisoka stopped shuffling his cards. "I have no use for a broken toy," he explained, voice saccharine sweet, "and she had sounded quite broken. Do you mean to tell me you care?"

He leaned away from a punch that turned into a flurry. Cards flew, incinerated by dazzling red aura. Joan strung together fast punches, defenses tight, forcing a step back. A leg sweep disrupted the rhythm. Hisoka flipped into the air, flames erupting around his opponent, sweltering, hot. His feet touched the ground as Joan's flame-encased fist lashed out. His arm caught the blow, a smile bloomed as flames lit his eyes molten gold. The edge of a burn, the skin scorched a beautiful shade of raw red soon to be joined by a blistered bruise… The damage done through his defenses, through his aura, his tongue darted across his lips, interest piqued.

"Are you by chance a transmuter?" he asked, wholly mockingly. His personality aligned with Hisoka's little test. But the fire, the fire was a novelty trick much like Texture Surprise. Something to disguise, to draw attention from something hidden, to rattle opponents. Although, Joan hid it clumsily. Complex abilities and enhancers never quite got along.

"Fire's a party trick," Joan confirmed, so truthful. "Like your fucking cards."

"Hmm." Hisoka played with his cards, feigning disinterest. Truly, he was more interested in who had devised this devious ability. Enhancers were so prone to creating simplistic abilities that this fire naturally seemed out of place. The qualities were so similar to the black aura that had escaped Lan while on the verge of death- albeit a weaker version. Yet, that had not been her aura while this fire certainly belonged to Joan. "Pity." That still left a boring item or a long-dead corpse as the answer. "This will be over too quickly to be entertaining." Again, a waste of potential. Burning away a thin layer of aura was ultimately nothing. Perhaps in the hands of an actual transmuter it would be more successful, more like the aura that had clung to Lan, but what-ifs were rather boring. He liked surprises.

And, just like that, his interest waned. In its place remained that spark of irritation _because this man still touched what wasn't his_.

Joan charged forward, predictably enraged.

Another exchange. Another dance. Hisoka's thrown cards continued to burn in the surrounding inferno. Landed blows failed to elicit normal responses; burns, bruises, cuts, everything a masochistic pleasure or unfelt pain. With minor amusement, Hisoka noticed that Joan's defenses were capable, his enhancement techniques more successful than the aura-burning trick. What may have been broken bone, severed limbs, would bruise, would wound like papercuts.

A card in his fingers, a sweep of his arm as Joan mysteriously stumbled, the edge gouged a line in skin. The fire flared protectively as Joan steadied himself. Hisoka hopped away. Blood dripping down his arm, Joan cussed Hisoka out, brutally honest with his opinion of the clown. A hand clutched over the wound, a burst of flames, he cauterized the wound before it could even threaten significant blood loss.

Unlike his dear delicate Lan. His eyes narrowed as he realized that posed a problem. Adalei enjoyed removing limbs. Remove a limb from Lan and…

He changed his mind again. This fight must be horribly boring if he had time to concern himself with what-ifs and Lan. Obviously, he would sense if her aura output plummeted with catastrophic injury. Finishing Joan would take a whole of one second. Then he could rush over to her, use a bit of Bungee Gum to stop the bleeding, and call over Machi. He had zero reason to be _worried_ about Lan. No, he should be having fun crushing the man that had… tormented Lan. But he still wasn't doing this for her, obviously.

He dodged another swing, flipping back, landing a distance away. Joan growled in apparent frustration as he charged stubbornly forward. A flick of his fingers and Joan toppled over in a tangled mess of now visible strands of bubblegum aura. Placed with every strike Hisoka had landed, aura hidden by In, flames not powerful enough to burn through it like it did a thin layer of Shu, Hisoka smiled, pleased with himself. Joan's Nen suffered from Memory Overload, reliance on transmuted flames quashing his potential.

"What the hell is this shit?" Joan screamed, fire roaring, temperature of the room spiking with his temper. He pulled and pulled, his face slamming into the floor. Flames licked at Bungee Gum, shearing away paper-thin layers.

"Bungee Gum," Hisoka answered, stepping forward, card appearing between his fingers. "It has the properties of both rubber and gum." Another burst of hot flames, Joan snarled, Hisoka's grin broad. "Don't expect to pull away so easily. Unlike you, I'm a transmuter. You see, I have a theory that-"

"Fuckin' shut up!"

A tongue of fire reached out, leaving Hisoka a bit peeved at the interruption. He just wanted to explain the error in Joan's ways. He lazily held up his arm to block blinding flames.

His head snapped to the side. Spit and blood flew from his mouth as his feet skidded across the floor. He came to a halt a short distance away, his gaze on the wall because he definitely didn't expect to be punched in the face.

"You thought that was all I could do?" Joan shouted, celebrating. Hisoka's attention drifted to him, peering at him from the corner of eyes in a sideways glance. Joan was on his feet, freed from his bonds. "I can burn through that gum shit like its fucking nothing!" The flames surrounding him darkened, twisting with aura. Or, as Gyo revealed, _auras_. Wisps of black devoured red as fuel, no longer an enhancer's cheap imitation. "Fanghe was a genius! She came up with an ability to make me unstoppable!"

Hisoka chuckled under his breath, understanding now. Chrollo would have been disappointed, if his interest hadn't shifted to his sweet fledgling instead. "This Fanghe would have been an interesting opponent." A specialist surrounded by foolish devotees, a malicious curse, oh, Hisoka loved the parallels and the irony. Oblivious, adoring, Joan had no idea. All the Fan Shi, as well as Lan, were pawns to a dead woman, her aura lingering long after her demise to devour their killers. Except for unfortunate, unfortunate Joan. The curse made no such distinction when paired with his flames.

Hisoka wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smudging blood on his lips.

"You, however, are not."

* * *

Virgil crouched behind a chunk of ceiling debris. The hand gripping his bleeding arm shook, his eyes wide as he watched the absolute destruction the Phantom Troupe wrought.

Maybe, once, they had been at this level. Maybe, once, they had been a nightmare, their reputation alone enough to send fear into their enemies. But that time had long since passed. Passed with Fanghe. She had united them, led them, and, without her, perhaps they were destined to fall apart. To die.

A colossal sphere of energy, the planet Jupiter, formed at the former mummy's hands. Not the first, not the last, it crashed into Sybil's behemoth. The monster wailed, armor cracking. Another few direct hits, and Sybil would be ripped from its chest. The flicker of delicate threads catching light, they tightened, bound. Another tentacle was sliced from the monster. It tore at its arm in a futile attempt to pull free from the woman's Nen threads. Gunfire rattled the air. Bullets met Circe's Nen, the nymphs, her bombs, exploding, useless. She neglected poisons, neglected deadly aim, betrayed them. Betrayed him. The samurai sliced through blasts, bugs, tentacles, everything within range with striking precision.

Concrete burst, bullet piercing skin. He grabbed his shoulder, the bleeding wound matching the sword slash on his leg. Despite the heat of blood on skin, he felt cold, lightheaded. He was bleeding to death. Another wound sealed his fate.

He sensed the battles below. Consuming flames, the desperation eclipsed by bloodlust and ravenous hunger, Joan fought a losing battle with the clown. Knives digging into flesh, the familiar scrape of Lanfen's aura, even with the sudden increase, Adalei overpowered, crushed, dominated.

He couldn't die. Not only because of basic survival instinct, but because Minji would win. Their struggle would be meaningless. Fanghe's death would be meaningless. _His_ death would be meaningless.

Unable to move, he surrounded himself. Easy to kill but difficult to see, his last resort. All he had left, his flesh wasps decimated, his useful chimera ants dead, his scorpions torn apart, his gnats and flies useless… All he had were tiny recluses. The pin-head sized spiders swarmed, paraded over his body. An irony to the Spiders set on ending his life. A few bites, and the venom would spread, destroy flesh, blood, stop the heart.

Poisonous, deadly, the spiders scattered.

At that same moment, surrounded by his dying hope, Circe met his eyes. The deep green glow of her aura, the energy at her fingertip, her smile dimmed.

The ground shattered. Virgil tumbled to the side, glasses lost, hair tangled, trail of blood staining his path. He pushed himself up, arm giving out to slam his face on the rubble covered floor. A second try, and he managed to lift his head to face his end with a fraction of dignity.

Instead of finishing him, Circe returned to firing poor shots at the Phantom Troupe.

His glasses gone, everything was blurred, black creeping on the edge of his vision. Even if his spiders had survived, he could no longer see them. Freezing, body weak, he couldn't find the energy to drag himself from the open. His Nen fizzled, escaping into Bug Net impossible. He wouldn't be able to contain the few insects he had left. They would run rampant, disperse, or cling to his soon-to-be corpse.

A corpse coated in flies…

This isn't what he wanted.

When Fanghe found him, took him from Meteor City, he thought he'd escaped the fate of a bloated corpse: home, meal, and nursery to insects. She had given him his first pair of glasses, allowed him to see clearly for the first time in his damn life. She gave him a home, an actual home furnished with only the finest. No more sharing rotting meals with flies. No more being covered in filth and reeking of stink bugs to hid with the trash to feel safe from a bleary world.

He hated them. He hated bugs. He had never wanted to touch another in his life, but Fanghe… Fanghe said that he couldn't escape what he hated. She told him to embrace it. And he did.

A shadow crossed his face. The fuzzy outline, the dark robe, the gleam of a raised sword… His executioner.

A single swing. A metal blade through his throat.

* * *

Lan took another step back as Sybil's aura crashed down from above, a film on her skin, phantom tentacles gripping her, compressing her chest more. Uneven breathes, she kept her eyes forward despite the discomfort. Adalei was unaffected. The woman didn't even twitch as the maelstrom of aura caused Lan to pale. Sparks, buzzing air, cold metal, searing flames, a sensory overload.

But the familiar sting of bloodlust and desire, she found sudden comfort in sensing the swell of murderous intent that radiated from Hisoka. The weighted, powerful auras, the Phantom Troupe had arrived with him. They could save-

Adalei's fist dug into her shoulder, flung her back into the wall. The horrendous pop in her ear, the way her arm hung limp at her side, Lan flared Arri over her again. Another lunge. Lan ducked, Arri slamming into Adalei's back. She smashed face-first into the wall as Lan scrambled away. Adalei spun, foot a hair's breadth from Lan's head as she dived.

A one-handed backflip landed her a scant few steps away. She couldn't be distracted again. Remembering Machi, Lan gripped her arm and jerked it, popping the joint back into place.

She wanted to beg that the seamstress was upstairs with the others. That would be a glimmer of hope in the dark. If she could just get away from Adalei, then she would be safe. Her problems could be wiped from existence by more qualified fighters.

With that hope, she ran away. Arri tore through a wooden door, her steps echoing loud in another dark hallway maze. She ran blindly. No idea of the floor plan, helpful signs lacking, she just ran because her life certainly depended on it.

She realized she didn't hear Adalei chasing after her a second too late.

A wall exploded, debris in her face. Lan flung her arms in front of her, braced herself for a hit, Arri flared, focused. Her head snapped to the side, punch to her jaw. As she reeled, an aura-coated hand clutched the front of her shirt.

Adalei slammed her into a wall. A hand at her throat, crushing, holding her up, Lan's heart drummed. Familiar flickers of memories, of Hisoka choking her, her eyes went wide as her fingers clawed at Adalei's hand. No matter the damage to her hand, the lacerations leaking hot blood onto Lan's neck, Adalei was unfazed. Panic threatened to set in. Adalei's grip tightened, tighter, tighter, as she raised her other hand agonizingly slowly, triumphant sneer on her face. Nen flooded her hand and-

Lan's heels dug into Adalei's stomach. In the same moment, Arri redirected, snapped fangs over Adalei's shoulder. It was enough. Lan braced herself against the wall and unmoving Adalei to contort. Her foot smashed into Adalei's unprotected face.

Adalei stumbled back, blood down her chin. Arri pulled her the opposite direction as Lan slipped from her loosened grasp. She spun on her heel a short distance away. She needed to use the remainder of God Complex to kill Adalei before hiding from the rest. That was the most running the situation would allow.

"You broke my nose," Adalei complained, voice nasally, unoffended. She seemed to find it humorous. Blood drained down her face to her neck, more horrific in sight than anything. Her shoulder, lined with serrated puncture marks, was more promising. She spat blood, a tooth skittering across the tile.

Despite the lost tooth, broken nose, lacerated shoulder, the blood coating her skin, Adalei… Lan took another step back. A formerly dislocated shoulder, heavy bruising, and rubbed-raw skin, and she wanted to hide, wanted someone to rescue her. And Adalei, Adalei just grinned madly, smearing blood on the back of her arm as she wiped her face. Nothing reached her. Nothing affected her. Even Hisoka could be irritated with words and actions, brought to wild euphoria, but Adalei… Lan realized the most terrifying opponents were those without self-preservation.

The reprieve ended as Adalei charged, aura over her fist. Lan dodged a jab, still quicker on her feet. Another swing from her off hand, Lan let it glance off her arm, off Arri, blood spattering. She evaded the more dangerous follow-up strike, hyper-vigilant. Adalei poured more energy into her right fist, red glow warning.

Energy hissed as Adalei stepped close, whips lashing out, horizontal. A feint. Still needed to dodge. Lan hopped above the aura, Arri forming in front of her to protect her from the blow she expected while airborne.

Arri's teeth snapped over Adalei's arm. Instead of pulling away, or flooding her arm with Nen to protect it, her energy shifted. Flesh sheered, blood running freely, fangs met bone, a sickening crack echoing. Adalei's legs glowed with redistributed aura. As her heels dug into the floor, she whipped her arm to the side.

The vicious tug tore Lan from her feet, met her face to a wall. Body scraping the wall, Lan flared her aura, directed it all to Arri while sacrificing herself. She refused to release that arm. Arri's teeth sunk further in, fractures shattering the bone entirely. A removed arm would be worth cuts and bruises.

Lan hit the floor. Briefly. Her back slammed into the ceiling before smacking her face back into the ground, memories of gum and a clown on the edge of her mind.

Then finally, finally she heard a wet _thud_. She pushed herself off the floor to confirm. Detached, chewed apart beyond repair, Adalei's bloodied right arm lay on the ground in a small puddle of gore. Arri had done it. Lan had done it. She managed to take a limb! Even if Adalei wasn't bleeding out, she had still lost blood _and_ her dominant arm!

Bouncing excitement soured with dread.

Adalei carried on like nothing happened. Her foot caught Lan's stomach to scoop her off the floor, air rushing by, scenery blurred. A wall crumbled as Lan flew threw it.

Glass shattering, an overwhelming chemical reek, Lan's back rested against another wall. A wet squish under hand, she jerked it away. A brief glance revealed a fleshy lump, an organ or something. The smell burning her nose was formaldehyde. She realized she had landed on a desk, the room small, crowded with heavy books, unknown tools and specimen jars.

Her heart already racing, she felt another surge in Adalei's aura. With nowhere to run, she pulled her legs to her chest, scrunched her eyes closed the moment the energy swelled before snapping, slicing air. Arri flared over her, in front of her. The glow seared through her eyelids. The air displaced flung glass shards into her face. A jolt sent her teeth into her lip to hold back a whimper. The desk crumpled to the floor, legs cut away.

A pause turned into an eternity, footsteps so loud yet so quiet underneath her pounding heartbeat.

She felt it.

She felt her aura weakening. A lull would freefall, and Adalei would slice her into pieces, and then leave her at the non-existent mercy of someone set on dissecting her like a science class frog. Her organs would be strewn about the room with the broken specimens. There wouldn't be anything she could do. Not after God Complex drained all her energy for a boost just enough to spare her from immediate death- which might have been a mercy. Adalei couldn't be bothered to care about an arm forever gone, a few cuts from weakened aura would be nothing.

What did she have left? She didn't have any tricks. She didn't have cards. She didn't have a knife. She always relied on Nemmi, but she didn't have Nemmi. 

She didn't have control. Spiraling. Spiraling with desperation, Adalei's steps became a watch ticking time. Tick. Tick. Tick. Death became a shadow in the crumbled wall.

Lan reached for something, anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thank you to those that have left kudos!


	35. Defeat: Betrayal

Her hand blindly searched, her eyes fixed forward. Lan reached for something, anything.

A mess of cold flesh, wet chemicals, chalky drywall, rough debris, sharp shards… Adalei took a step, glass crunching underfoot, Lan's chest tight, eyes wide. Nothing. Nothing useful. Warm blood dripped, palm stabbed, slashed open. Cold. Metallic.

Her fingers grasped for anything and everything as Adalei's aura surged, lit the room red. In a bloody, shaking hand, she counted a handful of paperclips, glass shards, and a… A scalpel? She had asked for anything, ready to use a pen, a scrap of paper, absolutely anything, to be delivered a blade, no matter how tiny, was… A fucking miracle considering her day.

Not the time to celebrate. She slid off the desk as Adalei's left arm glowed, shuffling her makeshift weapons.

Paperclips and glass flew across the room. Shu reinforced metal and glass drove into unprotected skin, stuck fast, a few a fraction from an eye. Lan cursed silently; she needed a blind spot because fatally piercing Adalei's brain with dull-edged garbage was a stretch. That last second tilt of Adalei's head had saved her from lost vision.

Blood down a demon's face, Adalei grinned, dispersing the aura around her hand to mockingly brush the remains of a useless attack from her cheek.

Lan didn't waste the opportunity. Arri flared over her body. She charged forward, scalpel hidden in her hand. Every bit of energy she could summon went to shaping Arri into a monster of blinding Nen. It snapped at Adalei's remaining arm, Adalei pulling back her fist instead. Aim through Arri and into Lan. She redirected, dropped low, Arri's teeth tearing into the exposed flesh of Adalei's leg. She punched anyway, dispersing Arri, wasting Lan's energy, leaving her open.

Lan grit her teeth, ignoring her brain screaming retreat. No more. Risk was her only chance.

Adalei stumbled, tendons torn, but pulled back her arm for another swing. Energy gathered at her fist, time slowed with a last shot of adrenaline. As she moved to swing, Lan pushed off the ground, sent herself flying like she meant to tackle Adalei to the ground. She took the bait. Failed to shift her aura, failed to block, failed, lost.

The scalpel buried in her chest. A bladed edge, a bit of Nen, and an opening was all she needed. Lan forced it deeper, twisting.

Adalei grabbed her hand, bones crunching. A knee slammed into Lan's stomach, sent her flying into the wall, sliding to the floor while coughing. Broken rib, uneven breaths, and shattered fingers now useless, that had been the consequence to the risk.

Lan quickly pulled herself to her feet. She watched as Adalei stared at the scalpel in her chest, in her heart, blood beginning to seep. Removing it would quicken the inevitable, and Adalei had regrettably realized that the second Lan began twisting it for a wider wound. Still, every beat would pump more blood onto the floor. She couldn't flex her heart like her other muscles. This was it.

Without pain, without fear, Adalei raised her fist. The last of her aura surrounded her arm in a bloody red, twisting, writhing, enraged. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no way to dodge, no time left. Lanfen called Arri over her, but it was weakening. Weakening so quickly, not nearly enough to save her from a final gambit. God Complex had carried her all it could.

She needed to save herself.

As she took a step, Adalei whipped her arm to the side. Red energy snapped through the air.

Lan watched. Watched as Arri was shredded, as whips slammed into her arm. Watched as blood spattered, as it sliced through bone, as it separated a limb into several pieces that fell to the ground, silent under blood rushing behind her ears. She barely registered the scream that tore out of her throat as her hand cupped over the stump, blood running through her fingers. Her eyes saw a missing limb, the pieces in a morbid pile of bloody flesh, her brain disbelieving, refusing, adamant she felt her arm in place, broken fingers moving. Tears ran down her cheeks, her body quaking as she tried and tried and failed to quell the bleeding. Her knees buckled beneath her, landing her beside her arm in a growing pool.

The weight on her chest disappeared. Adalei's aura fizzled to the complete nothingness that accompanied death. Inexplicably, frighteningly, something else joined. A frostbite burn, a trill of intense dread, her eyes slowly lifted from the remains of her arm. Adalei had collapsed face first onto the ground, impaled herself in a finishing blow. Something unseen, she struggled to use Gyo.

The aura twisting around Adalei no longer glowed brilliant red.

Inky black swallowed light like a void. The fog creeped from the corpse to slowly choke the room under nothingness. Because the emptiness, the hollowness, the imperceptible presence of this aura, this sudden nothingness following chaos was jarring, petrifying.

The burning cold on her skin, Lan's lightheaded attention finally noticed. Pale blue devoured by black, it ate away at the remnants of her own aura. Wherever this aura touched, she lost control, the sheen around her fizzling away to die in the air. Somewhere beneath the blood loss and shock, she realized she needed to get away from this second aura before it finished what Adalei had started.

An attempt to stand resulted in her face splashing in a growing pool of blood. The room spun around her, edges of her vision beginning to tinge black, black like the aura surrounding her. So, she did what little she could. She crawled through blood, debris, and discarded flesh while desperately clutching her… what remained of her right arm. Her grip was failing her as much as her legs, her body numb, exhausted. Even the stubborn refusal to quietly die weakened as her brain muddled with thoughts of sleep and peace.

Her face smacked into the ground. An eternity of effort granted her a pitiful distance. Cold… Very cold, and tired, and confused, she just… wanted to sleep for a bit. The reasons she shouldn't blurred with her vision, deadened with her senses.

Her eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Footsteps echoed in an ominously quiet hall.

Lanfen's aura had plummeted following the disappearance of Adalei's. Minji didn't expect Lanfen to _defeat_ Adalei. In fact, she assumed the girl would pass out from an injury or run away the moment she realized her allies had arrived. The magician had also defied reason by toying with Joan instead of aiding Lanfen despite knowing how Adalei treated her opponents.

So much was tied to this moment, to Lanfen's survival. It was no longer just a matter of obtaining the damn chip in her back, it was a matter of life and death. Lanfen's ever-weakening aura reeked of disaster.

She shoved the door aside. She froze.

The stench of blood and fresh corpse permeated the air, formaldehyde a secondary note. Flesh strewn about the room, not all belonging to her specimen collection, made her stomach lurch because this, this easily fell into the category of _irreparable harm_.

The moment of brief shock was replaced with cold precision. As she closed the short distance, her feet stuck in tacky blood. Within a blink, she ripped a piece of metal from her prosthetic leg before using Nen to reshape it and clamp down on Lanfen's seeping stump of an arm. She grabbed Lanfen by the shirt collar, struggled to drag her over to the battered desk and then lift her onto it. Needless to say, her pulse was as abysmal as her aura.

She would need a transfusion to survive, and this wasn't a fully stocked hospital. Undamaged but archaic equipment scattered about the room, she could manipulate it to her needs, sterilize it with what little she had lying around. That left the blood itself.

With the bleeding stemmed, she paced to Adalei, rolled the body over with hopes she would be useable. No such luck. Lanfen had not only sliced off one of Adalei's arms, she had also stabbed her in the heart with one of Minji's old scalpels- her first, in fact, that had never seen the flesh of a human until now. Adalei's muscle control had failed, her final moments pumping out most of her blood. Unfortunate, because she had O negative blood. Minji would be using herself, then, given she and Lanfen had compatible blood types- she might have used Virgil, if he wasn't already dead as well.

Back to the more pressing matter of Lanfen's arm.

She wanted to close the wound without regard to the amputation- the sooner she could do the transfusion without risking too much blood loss herself, the better, because she would be pulling that chip out of Lanfen's back the moment she was remotely stabilized. The thought of Lanfen losing an arm meant absolutely nothing to her, but, with the circumstances as they were, that wasn't an option. _Irreparable harm_ echoed in her head again as she searched the room.

Breathing shallow, the pallor of her skin, Minji quickly admitted that she needed assistance since her priorities were forcibly altered.

She dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed.

"Tell Machi she's needed," she said over the top of Circe. She imagined the smile slid of Circe's face with the urgency in her usually flat tone. Circe didn't even bother responding to Minji, already shouting for Machi's attention as the call ended.

Minji returned to searching the room, this time gathering the pieces of Lanfen's mangled arm so Machi could reassemble her upon arrival. Another issue. If Fanghe's aura activated, Machi's threads would dissolve; _any_ aura near Lanfen, caught by Fanghe's ability, would be dispersed. She needed to be stabilized. Otherwise there would be a repeat of what had happened to Lanfen at Adalei's death; she was very lucky she pulled herself far enough from Adalei's corpse that Fanghe's aura failed to drain her entirely. (Had Fanghe not considered the Fan Shi attacking Lanfen? No, Minji bet this was simply another example of Fanghe's morbid humor. Why bother making a condition that prevented her aura from activating on other members of the Fan Shi when she could laugh as they killed each other?)

The moment this task was out of the way, Minji could focus. Focus on finding her answer.

* * *

"What was that!?" Nobunaga continued to complain, hacking away at mindless insects buzzing around the room.

The moment Virgil had died, the entire space had been swarmed by insects that appeared from nowhere, probably hidden by Nen. While some of the cloud dispersed, no longer under anyone's control, some stayed to shelter in the relative warmth of the building to zip around as a general nuisance. A particularly ugly, large ant landed on her head, squashed underfoot the next second. Machi almost found the bugs more irritating than Nobunaga's loud complaints. _Almost_. He was still alive, and barely injured, so he could stand to lower it a decibel.

"What did you do?" he accused again, Circe playing dumb and shrugging before a hail of her aura rained down. Nobu had the sense to run for cover, though he continued to fling insults at her, waving his sword.

Machi would admit that what had happened was a bit strange. The moment Nobu beheaded Virgil, Nobu's aura just… dispersed like a corpse's. What began at his hands crept up his arms to his shoulders before stopping. A glance with Gyo revealed a different aura exiting Virgil's body to surround him, a portion latching onto Nobu with his proximity to the corpse. If he had stood in place, didn't immediately hop back when he sensed something off, the aura-dispersing effect would have likely climbed well beyond his arms, maybe even have killed him if he lingered long enough.

Since it was fading, both from the corpse and Nobu's arms, it was no longer an issue. So, whatever- although her intuition said it was more troublesome than it seemed.

"Machi," Circe shouted, Machi's head whipping her direction with the slight change in tone. Circe pocketed her phone, ending a short, unnoticed call. Already, this didn't bode well. "Minji needs you downstairs."

Machi's eyes narrowed at a problem confirmed. For Minji to request her help, things had gone incredibly wrong. Minji had vastly more medical knowledge and experience, more than Machi would ever need, but there was one thing that made Machi more effective in emergency situations: her Nen. Nen Threads could close wounds and repair damage with little time and equipment, the perfect triage.

Girl was quickly becoming more trouble than she could possibly be worth.

The threads restraining Sybil's behemoth fell slack. The few tentacles it had left flailing again, Nobunaga hurriedly scrambled away. As he passed her on his way to safety behind Bonolenov, he sharply asked, "Where're you going, Machi?"

She didn't answer. She wasn't going to argue Danchou's possible intentions and Hisoka's potential lies right now. Lanfen would be dead before they could untangle that knot of motives.

"Oh, come on, Nobunaga," Circe helpfully chimed in, pretending to pout, lazily dodging gunfire from Franklin. This fight had devolved into a game the moment Virgil died. The sole reason the Phantom Troupe kept playing was the chance to kill Sybil. Circe was smart enough to see that and keep herself distracting enough to prevent her sister's death until Sybil had the sense to run. "I thought we were having fun here. If everyone wanders off, I will have nothing to do until the big reveal."

Machi left behind the chaos of insults and explosions, picking up her pace. She wouldn't be the one to mess up Danchou's weird rescue mission guised as a half-hearted heist.

* * *

Joan stepped back, wiped sweat from his brow. Not a full second of respite, and the clown closed in for another round of fast jabs, contorting to strike from impossible angles after dodging Joan's counterstrikes. Bastard didn't waste a single movement. Joan'd paid for that again and again, burn-sealed cuts from cards and nails littering his skin. Couple strikes even risked slicing tendons. Creepy grin plastered to the guy's face, the bizarre clothes, Joan had underestimated him by judging appearances alone. Hisoka's standing at Heaven's Arena and place in Adalei's dream-fight list were deserved.

Adalei… Her aura had flat-lined, Lanfen's spiraling with it. His plea deals with the clown fell on deaf ears; Hisoka didn't seem to care that Lanfen had found death's doorstep. Minji had reached her now but-

Joan's feet tore from the ground, eyes wide. His back slammed into the wall in under a blink, air knocked from his lungs, spit flying. He quickly called flames over his back to once again melt that fucking gummy aura.

He could burn through it, yes, but this clown… This sneaky bastard managed to repeatedly reattach it whenever Joan lowered his flames, got even minorly distracted. Using his aura to burn through someone else's Nen, especially someone as ridiculously strong as Hisoka, he'd admit it was fucking exhausting. He'd wasted enough showing off earlier when he thought it'd be an easy, fast win. Quick bursts were all he allotted himself now.

His flames faltered when the clown licked his lips, disturbing grin paired with awkward eye contact. Next would be the unnerving remarks. Joan hated this guy. Hated him! Fight might be easier if he didn't spend half his time cringing from the clown's conduct. How he wished he could unhear the moans and pleasure-filled rambling. He was just fucking with him at this point. Had to be.

Squeaky door hinges interrupted.

Hisoka glanced over his shoulder, Joan deciding. A mess of pink hair, a woman darted through the room, no regard to the paused fight, she had to be a stray Spider. The direction, she was on her way to Lanfen. To Minji. No telling why. If she killed Minji, though, then Lanfen would die as well. Little too late, but he… He didn't want the kid to _die_.

His half-step towards the woman earned the clown rushing forward, fist digging into his stomach with the distraction. He returned a hit to the clown's cheek before he vaulted away. Joan stumbled back a few steps. Flames fanned out, burning red surrounding him as he caught his breath, spat on the ground while coughing.

A hand buried in flesh.

Joan froze, time slowed, his eyes drifting down. He really was just… fucking with him. Through his stomach, from the back… Bloody, sharp-nailed fingers stabbed clean through his body and he didn't understand. His aura had protected him from this until now so why? Why did it suddenly, catastrophically fail? How?

He coughed up blood, a trail dripping down his chin. Just as quickly, Hisoka withdrew his arm from Joan's gut, left him to crumple to his knees. He clutched his stomach, fizzling flames on his fingertips slowly cauterizing the wound. But he knew. He knew he couldn't fix the internal damage.

"That ability, I wonder, is it truly yours?" Hisoka asked, heels clicking in the stark silence as he stepped in front of Joan. "Do you sense it? Or are you _completely_ oblivious?" He squatted to be at eye level, cheerful smile on his face as Joan hacked up more blood. Gold eyes flickered with Gyo before blinking the Nen away, satisfaction with himself ever present. "The aura that burned through Bungee Gum," he continued, condescending, pink aura at the tip of his finger, "that isn't yours." A nail pressed into Joan forehead. "In fact, its burning through your aura twice as fast as it burns mine."

A flick of his finger was enough to send Joan backward, his head slamming into the concrete floor, vision shaking. More blood ran down Joan's face. Again, high heels on concrete, and the clown leaned over him. Nen surrounding Hisoka in mocking example, the change was obvious, now. The tip of his finger had lost all trace of aura. Joan used Gyo for himself, discovered all-consuming black.

That was when he sensed it. Realized it. So subtle. So familiar. The hot cold bite meant to be a memory. Fanghe.

"I wonder, did she do this on purpose, or was it a defective attempt at integrating her aura with yours?" Hisoka's smile brightened at a nerve struck. Joan held back shouting, desperately trying to focus on maybe buying himself another minute or two. He would die, he knew that. "You see, this aura neglected dispersing Lan's aura when I had nearly killed her. No, it just targeted me, an enemy."

His world came crashing down around him, and he finally understood. This. The knife to the heart, twisted. The pool of blood, deathbed at their killer's feet. The answers to be had undeniable, painful. This is what Minji had felt then, with her neck slashed open, bleeding out, desperate to save herself… If this truly was Fanghe's aura eating away at his, that had been doing so _every_ time he used this ability, then she… She knew this would happen, didn't warn him, just let him kill himself. And if _this_ was _Nen_ then… Then it didn't…

"Lanfen," he forced out, name said like a plea. She was just a kid and they… Everything about her life had been fucked over by Fanghe and then them and for what? Nothing! For fucking nothing!

Hisoka's eyebrows raised while his lips twisted with a grin holding back laughter. "Have a change of heart? Suddenly realize you like her alive more than dead? Perhaps you should have considered that before breaking her." His grin broke. The teasing disappeared, his tone matter-of-fact, no longer even directed at Joan as he walked away. "You care. I don't. If my darling dies, then she wasn't worth much after all." Distant footsteps, a lowered voice, "This was… disappointing."

Joan found himself dying alone, betrayed.

Fanghe had… Fanghe… Why?

Why!?

Why would Fanghe do this to them? He didn't understand, couldn't after living a lie for so damn long. She had loved them, right? Right!? She picked them out of the garbage, offered them the world and a family. She had saved them. Saved them from death only to… To use them and toss them away like- like garbage!

She didn't hate the Paijin for the corruption. She killed them because they were in her way; as simple as that.

Maybe… Maybe, since the beginning, she had planned to dispose of the Fan Shi the moment their usefulness expired. His memories said no, his heart fucking screamed no, but maybe, maybe her love had always been a ploy. No one would miss them. Most of them never existed in record, and he'd been labeled dead the moment his relatives decided he wasn't worth the effort, ditched him in that hellhole. They had nothing, and she offered them something, asking only for unfaltering loyalty in return. Blind devotion made them her perfect pawns.

They were never more than nothing to her, even if she was their entire world.

Hot tears ran down his face, and he let out a breathless curse. Last time he cried he was receiving third degree burns. But rage, rage quickly joined crushing sadness on his deathbed.

 _Minji_. Minji, that fucking bitch, she could pretend to be righteous in her cause, but she was the fucking same as Fanghe. Used them, betrayed them, discarded them, all for whatever data was on that damn chip she had reluctantly told him about- and then only because her endgame had been to have them killed off by the Phantom Troupe.

Why? _Why_?

* * *

A flicker of consciousness returned, though she hardly had the energy to do more than gradually pull herself from a dead slumber.

Cold. Cold registered first. Like she had dozed off in a damp towel on a chilly night. Or, like she was sick, sweating a puddle to wake both freezing cold and burning hot. Maybe that. Her skin felt coated in a sticky sludge. Sludge thicker than sweat, drying, tightening. Something felt… wrong about it. To brush the feeling away, she tried to muster the strength to move her arm, but nothing changed, her arm refusing to move, wherever it was. Had she fallen asleep on it again? But everything felt as heavy as lead, not just her arm. But her arm… Her arm… Something important…

She heard voices, maybe. Soft and quiet like listening through a door, or maybe just the whispers of someone trying not to wake the subject. Subject. The word made her uncomfortable. Enough so that an inkling of dread began to raise an alarm.

Something… Something smelt strange.

Finally. Finally, after what felt like hours of fighting inescapable sleep, she pried her eyes open.

Her cheek pressed to a desk, the smell of chemicals, blood, and death hitting her nose, she remembered. Remembered in a disorganized sequence that left her even more terrified, reality and hallucination blending in an exhausted, frightened mind.

Muscles tensed, scream in the back of her throat, she jolted to sit up. A hand on her shoulder, holding her down, keeping her face pressed to the desk and unable to see, made her shriek.

"Don't move."

"Machi?" Her voice shook, afraid she had misidentified the calm voice just because of a desperate hope that something good had happened. She didn't get victories. Not lasting victories. The hand on her shoulder let up enough that she could turn her head, see pink hair, icy eyes, and a poker face. Lan swallowed down some panic, because if Machi was here, then the Fan Shi were dead, her arm would be stitched back together, and…

She felt a tug at her back. At skin. Metal-laced aura made her tense, sent a shiver down her spine, made the fear return tenfold. Minji. Lan searched for her own aura, finding little, so her leg twitched kick Minji away before bolting.

"You're fine," Machi quickly said, reassuring her like a child bawling at a scraped knee. Her hand pressed down, apparently aware her ability to comfort was not quite the best. "Danchou ordered us to take you back alive, so no one's going to kill you."

"He's alive?" fell out of her mouth before she could even consider the consequences. Machi's stony expression gained a bit of life, the look screaming _he better be alive, or else_.

"Circe pulled a childish prank," Minji's rough voice cut in, making Lan freeze. What happened at the compound had _not_ been a childish prank. And she didn't want this woman touching her. "He's perfectly fine."

"What are you doing?" Lan snapped, bouncing to anger to cover fear. Her shirt cut away, stripped down to her bra to expose her back… She didn't remember hurting her back enough to warrant an emergency surgery on a broken desk in a blood-spattered room. Machi's hand prevented her from pushing herself up to investigate. "My back wasn't hurt, my arm…" She tried to look, her last memory of her arm being gore on the floor at her feet. When she couldn't move far enough, she mumbled, "My arm," voice cracking.

"I've already stitched it back together," Machi loosely reassured again, trying to steal Lan's attention. Whatever Minji was doing to her back, it wouldn't kill her. But, still, she didn't like not knowing. Not with the Fan Shi. Not after the hallucinations. "It'll scar," Machi continued, tactical, listing. "The edges were rough, flesh missing or too far damaged to salvage. The muscle damage-"

"Don't." Lan swallowed a whimper, afraid of the moment she could actually see the damage. Because, Machi, her amazing Nen Threads and all, couldn't completely repair her arm. If she had, Lan would be able to move it. _Feel_ it. "Please, don't," she whispered into the desk, tired. She wanted to go back to sleep, wake up from this nightmare instead of finding another version waiting. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be safe, with Auntie and Nemmi at her side.

"Machi, step out for a moment."

"No!" Lan wanted to cling to someone, and Machi happened to be the least scary option. She'd even accept another Spider, any Spider, even fucking Hisoka, then being alone with Minji while she dug around so near her spine. The woman should be dead with the rest of the Fan Shi! This had something to do with the fucking item, didn't it? Was tearing her apart not enough? Was warping her sense of reality not enough? Was the other Fan Shi members being murdered by the Phantom Troupe not enough? Of course not. The damn item was always more important.

Machi's hand lifted from her back. If she could move her arm, she might have pathetically reached out and latched onto Machi's clothes like a scared child. "I wouldn't go against Danchou's orders," she repeated, reassured in her own way, already walking away.

Lan bit her lip to force down her complaints. She was acting like an idiot. An overemotional idiot. What happened wasn't that bad, right? Nemmi would screech at her for even thinking that… But the Spiders, the Spiders would dutifully follow Chrollo's orders. And Machi said she'd be fine, so she would be, right? Chrollo trusted them, so she should too, right? Because she trusted him? She wanted Nemmi to screech at her for thinking that. The silence stung.

The door opening, a cooing remark about fledglings and survival, her stomach dropped. She took it back. She didn't want to see Hisoka. She didn't want his mocking voice expressing disappointment at her condition, didn't want golden eyes leering at her, didn't want his hands on bare and battered skin. She was in no condition to handle the mental stress he created. But she was grateful, in a twisted way. He had shown up, at least. He could have just ignored her. He'd made the bare minimum seem like he had gone above and beyond…

"What are you doing?" she demanded again, redirecting her anger, nerves shaking her voice. She didn't dare move. Not with how close the tugging was to her spine.

Nothing.

Minji kept slicing away, silent, forcing Lan to consider. Was the item somehow imbedded in her? The minuscule size, to have never noticed _anything_ odd, it seemed so unlikely. When, never mind how, would Fanghe even have had the time to implant it? She hadn't known she was going to die that night, right? And to leave her precious item in the back of a three-year-old seemed ridiculous, not maniacal. It had to be some sort of… clue? Like whatever Joan was convinced she had. That… That still didn't seem believable or reasonable but otherwise it was nothing and for it to be nothing-

A pulse of energy and she gagged, bile rising in her throat. Images flickered behind tightly closed eyes as she fought throwing up. The sensation, the cold burn, she saw her arm sliced off again and again and again, experienced the visceral fear again and again and again.

Another tug, and her teeth dug into her lip. What started so quietly as an unimpressed hum turned into terrifying, bitter laughter. And Minji's laugh, her hands likely slick with blood, holding some damn item or clue, that scared Lan.

She changed her mind again. While she preferred the Phantom Troupe at her side, she'd accept Hisoka in a heartbeat. Minji was more terrifying, because, without the item, Lan realized that she meant absolutely nothing. The item, the item was all they ever wanted, all anyone ever wanted. She was worthless, a leftover container to be trashed.

As the cold burn faded, as Minji's laughter trailed off, Lan fought to find her voice again. "What's going on?" she repeated once more, shaking voice weak, scared, and exhausted. She wanted to go home.

"The condition was simply removal, then," Minji muttered, in no way speaking to Lan. "Her aura should have prevented any damage. It should still be viewable."

The complete disregard for her presence, Lan lifted her cheek from the table. A single move to force herself up, and violet Nen slammed metal straps across her back to restrain her. The hit knocked the air from her chest, sputtering coughs covering what might have become a shriek.

"Stay." Cold, inspiring panic more than calm, Minji's voice shot a shiver up her spine. Irritation had found its way into her tone. "The incision needs to be closed. An infection so near your spine would kill you, and I refuse to die over your stupidity." The restraints remained in place, metal scraping metal and rustling fabric the only sign Minji had stood. A few steps, and Lan craned her neck to see the woman as she began walking towards the door- hopefully to fetch Machi. "You have complicated matters enough in involving the Phantom Troupe. I did not wish to explain this to anyone besides Circe." Her tone shifted again, raspy voice carrying a note of apprehension.

"Explain?" Lan tentatively asked as Minji stepped into view, gold clothes stained, hands bloody, and wrist bandaged in torn fabric. Her fingers clutched something tightly, the object too small to see, surely too small to be the infamous item.

Minji stopped, wobbling slightly as she glanced over her shoulder. A lifeless grey eye reflected exhaustion beyond agitation. She uncurled her fingers, a speck carefully held between them. Some sort of computer chip imprinted with intricate symbols. Symbols meant to enhance Nen. The thing had been in her back for… for perhaps her whole life. Was it the item? Was an archaic computer chip the item? Or was it just a clue? Not much data could possibly be on something so old and small… Yet, this tiny, insignificant looking thing was why the Fan Shi had pursued her, had tortured her. It was what her father wanted above all else, the reason she was kept locked away. It was far more important than her.

"This. This is the only explanation Fanghe left us."


	36. Prodigal and Maniacal: Curse and Void

"This. This is the only explanation Fanghe left us."

That one statement was all Minji offered before opening the door, a wordless exchange summoning Machi back into the room. Lan kept still as Machi went to work. No embarrassing wonder on her face, nor tripped over words, this time, Lan was barely aware of Machi's Nen sewing closed a created wound.

She wanted and dreaded the supposed answers imbedded on that single computer chip. Surely, there had to be more. Maybe it was just a clue. A clue that led to another clue to continue a wild hunt for ghosts.

The moment Machi finished, Lan tried to sit up, view the damage. Her cheek slammed back into the desk. For a second, she stared at the stained surface, defeated. Placing any weight on her right arm made it collapse under her. She barely managed to have a twitch of control over it. Last time, with her broken finger, Machi's fix allowed her to move it immediately. That meant her arm had been shredded beyond the repair of a miracle worker...

The pit in her stomach seemed a permanent fixture.

A second try, her weight solely on her left arm, and she forced herself up. She was greeted by a room bathed in destruction. The lights, now on and blinding, highlighted the struggle, made glass shards sparkle, showed a tacky pool of blood around a cold corpse. The briefest glance at her arm, her eyes watered. Bandages hid the damage. Bandages that she didn't even feel wrapped around her arm.

The door swinging open sent her heart to her throat, her eyes shooting upwards. Instead of Hisoka, or a member of the Phantom Troupe, one of the Fan Shi paraded into the room, as alive and cheerful as ever. Circe. The glare on Lan's face didn't affect the woman in the slightest. Her brief time conscious in the car after the abduction, the fact Circe had shot her shoulder and poisoned her more than once, Lan wished she was dead. She wanted all the Fan Shi dead, or, in the very least, far away from her.

"Everyone's waiting for the premiere," Circe announced, aiming a smile at Minji.

Hazel eyes quickly landed on Lanfen. Circe held up a black long-sleeve shirt, nearly a copy of the one she currently wore. Lan bit her lip. She didn't want it. Didn't want to accept kindness from a member of the Fan Shi, didn't want to smell the foreign scent of an enemy. But she needed it. Hisoka's leering eyes tracing over her battle-worn body, judging the menagerie of wounds, it was nauseating in thought, actuality promising to be far more uncomfortable.

Hesitation rewarded her with the shirt tossed in her face. She felt absolutely pathetic as she pulled it over her head only to struggle getting her right arm into the sleeve. That moment lasted forever under the eyes of two enemies and a somewhat-ally she needed to impress.

On wobbling legs, she stood. A single step sent her to her hands and knees. For a moment, she stared at her hands, at the blood flaking from her skin. She was so unbelievably weak, she couldn't even walk. It didn't matter that her head was spinning from presumed anemia, that her body and mind had been through hell and back. This, right now, this was her determined destiny: a flesh container for the item _or just a singular clue_. She couldn't face the Fan Shi alone. Now, she couldn't even carry herself with a fucking bit of dignity. She felt useless. The only useful thing about her was finding the item, and with uncovering that possibly moments away…

An offered hand in her face, she slapped it away. Circe paused, mildly offended, before she shrugged, smiled, and paced back to Minji's side. Machi stared at her with a look that clearly stated, _don't expect me to haul you around._ And Lan agreed. The Phantom Troupe didn't come here to baby her. They came for the item. All of Chrollo's pretty declarations to her didn't matter to them, merely for the fact he couldn't express his changed desires to them. If she ended up dead, he might care, briefly, but the Spider would always be more important. And she wasn't a Spider. Never would be with how useless she was.

She stumbled back to her feet, swaying, head spinning. Minji was halfway out of the door by the time Lan took her second shaky step. Machi had the decency to not sprint out of the room, though she still walked a distance ahead of Lan. Circe, infuriatingly, lingered, closely watching Lan struggle through the scattered debris littering the floor. Progress was slow until she finally reached the doorway, found the wall of a long corridor to cling to for support.

"I spoke to Chrollo earlier," Circe whispered, leaning in too close, acting too friendly. "I shared our location to make a deal with him. Only Minji, Sybil, and I are left." The drop in her tone, the fading of obnoxious cheer, Lan didn't care. There was no pity, no sympathy, to be had for them. Not from her. Not when they did this to themselves. Fanghe had been dead for nearly twenty years; they chose to chase a phantom, chose to follow orders from the long dead. "We're not out to kill you," Circe added. Again, Lan didn't believe her. Joan had said the same thing before commencing the torture. If Circe was seeking trust, or some form of forgiveness or understanding, fuck her. "Actually, if we did-"

"Shut up."

The conversation ended. Circe laughed under her breath, apparently amused with Lan's anger. She resented that. She resented that so much, but maybe she _was_ a joke. No matter the effort, no matter the task, she always failed in some way. She liked to pretend she was strong, but she couldn't think of one pivotal moment where she had succeeded on her merit alone. She couldn't even escape a destiny set into motion by a decayed corpse. And she thought she had worked so hard to avoid this… Just another failure for the list.

Voices in the next room momentarily drowned self-doubt for a different sort of misery.

She kept her head low as she stumbled inside, eyes on her as an irritable conversation trailed. She recognized them, the scraggly samurai, the scarred man with stretched earlobes, and the mummy in wraps and boxing gloves. The minor scrapes, the few tears in clothes, they had faired infinitely better. Almost like this had been a joke of a fight, an unwarranted trip, and an unnecessary waste of their valuable time.

The flicker of attention she rewarded Hisoka, his pale skin perfectly smooth and free of damage, she knew better. His clothes were singed; he had some injuries hidden, though she doubted anything near severe. No, they were likely received in the name of fun while crushing Joan into the ground. And that, that might have been the only thing that made his presence somewhat pleasant. Otherwise, he remained someone else to disappoint with her pathetic capture.

He cooed her name, and she ignored him, fingers tearing at the hem of her borrowed shirt. The samurai tried asking something, ignored as well, earning more complaints. Other members joined in, playful bickering easy entertainment.

It didn't feel like this moment was the culmination of her life spent running from the past, from Fanghe and the Fan Shi. The sole person as invested in this as her…

Silent, fiddling with various decaying forms of technology, Minji ignored everything that wasn't related to the chip. The tv connected to a laptop, she feverishly plugged in a line of adapters to eventually reach whatever obsolete device had originally been meant to view the chip with, so long ago.

A flash, a change from static blue to a picture on screen, silenced the room entirely.

Grainy video feed, the quiet hiss of white noise, the image on screen sent Lan's nails into her palm. Sitting pretty in front of the camera, serene smile nothing short of mocking… A face to her misery: Fanghe. Lan hated it. Hated their resemblance. To each other and their father, jealous that Fanghe still managed to look more like their mother than Lan ever could even while coated in makeup, long hair dyed deep black.

Bloodlust tried to bubble from within, tinge her aura with a desire to kill the dead, but she was instead reminded she was spent. Empty. Exhausted. She couldn't even show long-held hatred as she wanted.

" _I hope you found this, dear Father_ ," Fanghe began, leaning back in her chair. Level, calm, her words carefully pronounced with the utmost eloquence, Lan despised her voice, her attitude. The fact this was aimed at her father, not even Lan herself, or even the Fan Shi… All her attention went to the venomous words of a monster taunting her from death. " _Because, to get this, you would have had to personally tear it from Lanfen's spine. I doubt she survived the process_." She laughed under breath, a bubbly giggle that made Lanfen's blood ice. Her intended end had always been a sacrifice to the item. " _Not that I ever intended for her to do so, of course_." Her smile, the amusement leaching into her otherwise controlled tone… Dread pooled in Lan's stomach, her heart plunged further into wrathful anticipation. Fanghe treated her as a punchline to a joke aimed at their father. Nothing more. Nothing less.

" _I **am** the only child now, right, dear Father? That makes me your only heir_." Malice-laced, the truth from a liar, this- " _I wonder, was it worth it? Was denying me my birthright worth losing everything?_ "

All of this was because she felt jilted. That's it. Fanghe planned to have her killed over something as petty as the family name, for control over the business that went with it. Lan almost…

Her eyes flickered to the floor as her teeth sunk into her lip.

She almost wished that it had been for some righteous cause, that Virgil had been right instead of her. Because then, then at least this would have meaning. Meaning more than petty inheritance and succession rights.

" _I do so hope you thought this was the item. You see, that is what I had wanted. In fact, I started that rumor solely for this moment_." Each spiteful declaration, the contrasting tone to her expression, to her act, brought more desolation. A carefully laid plan that managed to function even after her death… " _I also had my dear brothers, your oh-so precious sons, killed_." No regret nor guilt, she spoke of the task like mundane chores marked off a to-do list. Family meant nothing to her, yet their name meant everything. " _Jiahao, personally_ ," she added, dismissive, " _but you knew that as well, didn't you?_ " Another horror story shared by their father as a threat and a promise if Lanfen was ever found by the Fan Shi: Jiahao forced to watch his wife gutted, newborn beaten, toddler tortured, before being slowly executed himself. Father had said that they would kill Mother and Auntie the same way as she watched, and it'd be her fault.

Fanghe sighed heavily, dramatically. " _Yet, still, you regrettably failed to see the error of your ways,_ " she admonished, now speaking to a misbehaved child instead of a man heading a trafficking ring spanning a country with connections extending worldwide- the position Fanghe so coveted. " _The New Year's massacre was my doing as well. I am sure you knew as much, yet… Perhaps you were too busy cursing my name to notice?_ "

_Suspicions, but never solid evidence_ , Lanfen mentally answered in his place. Though that hardly mattered to her. Lan wanted an explanation, and this shit wasn't an explanation or a fail-safe or anything. It was bragging.

" _I hope you're living in squalor as I sit atop my rightful throne._ "

Lan's nails curled into her left palm, right hand twitching to copy, unable. Egotistical, arrogant, this message meant nothing. Fanghe's plan had gone wrong enough that she had ended up with her throat slashed open. A message recorded in ignorance, the item, why would she reveal its location when she expected to be alive with everything she had ever wanted?

Simple. She wouldn't.

" _Oh!_ " Fanghe smiled, eyes closed, as she clapped her gloved hands together. Her tone shifted, contorted to something nauseatingly sweet and entirely mocking. " _Yes, of course, the item. That **is** what you killed Lanfen to obtain_."

" _Congratulations!_ " A bubbly giggle cut off abruptly. Her face wiped of emotions, she ended her cheerful act to return to cold seriousness. Fanghe leaned towards the camera, hands laced under her chin, mimicking their father as he would pass out commands and punishments from behind his desk. " _Your last hope to take back what I stole, every effort you made for my precious item…_ "

A genuine upward twitch of Fanghe's lips, the pause, time crawled.

Everything. Absolutely everything about Lanfen's life related back to the item and Fanghe.

Her childhood spent hiding from the Fan Shi in the compound, a piece of a puzzle instead of a child, that left scars. She crashed and burned as teenager when she realized how deep the damage ran. A mistrustful bratty liar with skewed morality that's only use was obtaining an item, she didn't deserve friends, didn't understand how to make them let alone keep them. Her own actions had started pushing Auntie away, and Auntie was all she had had. She liked to call it partying to pretend it had been fun, but downing drinks every night to bury her personality, jumping into bed with anyone that'd take her a cheap replacement for companionship, worrying Auntie so she wouldn't leave, that had never been _fun_. She spiraled because she would never mean as much as that damn item and she knew it.

The Hunter Exam was meant to be her redemption. She had reached a breaking point, and then she remembered Hunters: fabled and revered paragons, despised and resented fiends, and, above all, strange beyond common societies' rulings. Being a Hunter would have given her a chance. If she could find no odd Hunters that would tolerate her presence enough to befriend her, then she would have had animals and a license to kill anyone that threatened them. It was also dangerous. Another risk to take, not as pathetic as drinking herself to death or waiting for the Fan Shi to appear and kill her. She figured that if she got stronger, she could prove herself worth more than the item and finally leave behind Fanghe's cursed legacy. She became a Hunter _because of the item_.

Then the Hunter Exam crushed that hope. Hisoka twisted a desperate bid at friendship into a game. The Fan Shi found her. Chrollo saw an opportunity to use her to get the item. Her role of pawn in finding that fucking item, she never escaped it, no matter how hard she tried.

Everything. Everything always began and ended with the item.

" _There is no item."_

…

W-what?

A half step back, eyes wide, she didn't… She didn't hear that. She misheard.

" _There never was_." Fanghe peeled off a glove, examining her nails, disinterested. " _It was a lie_."

No.

No, no, no, no, no! It was real! It had to be! It couldn't be fake! Otherwise…. Otherwise her entire life, everything that had happened, would be for- for- This was another lie!

A stumble backward, Lan's knees struck the floor. Shaking, she kept watching the screen, hoping, begging. There had to be an item. There had to be. The Fan Shi had Nen because of the item. She had early access to Nen because of the item. The way they sensed each other's auras and their absence of pain, that was an aftereffect of the item. Those abnormalities in a select group couldn't be chance. Rationally, that meant the item was real, right?

Fanghe couldn't crush her reality with just four words! It was a lie! A lie!

" _Becoming a Hunter was useful, if only for creating that lie_." Fanghe pulled off her other glove, revealing a partial hand crisscrossed with heavy scars. Entirely missing two fingers, her middle finger neatly sliced to the second joint, she held her hand in front of her with a loving smile. " _A few loyal pawns were worth the trade_." A delicate kiss to self-inflicted scars, to fingers cut away and prosthetic replacements, Fanghe laughed lightly. Fixated on the wounds, she victoriously uttered, " _Now everyone believes it's an item instead_."

Chairman Netero had once asked her, _"Do you know what Fanghe wanted when she became a Hunter?"_ That rather trivial exchange currently offered more explanation than this video mocking Lanfen's entire existence. Nen. If there was no item, then this had to be Nen, right? It had to be _something_. Lan wanted to beg that it be something rather than nothing. A single lie didn't, couldn't, unravel her reality… Right?

Yet, even that didn't make sense. What sort of Nen ability could do this? What ability could twist categories, awaken Nen, eliminate pain, bring hypersensitivity between victims, persist so long after death?

" _How I wish I could see your disbelieving anger right now. A shame._ " Fanghe glanced back at the camera, no longer admiring the damage her own ability caused her. Emotions switching to bored in a fractional second, act and actuality blended incomprehensibly. If she had lied about a lie, she had done so flawlessly.

An explanation? A clue? Nope! Lanfen had never been left with something that important. No, she was a joke after all!

" _This is your punishment for taking what was rightfully mine._ "

Then why? Why was _she_ punished? Why was _Mother_ punished? It would have been so much easier to just kill Father the moment she tired of him and take the Paijin name by force. She didn't need to do this. She didn't. Why go through all the trouble of disguising her Nen as the work of some item? Of implanting a false clue to be found years later? Even without the Fan Shi, she could have killed anyone that opposed her leadership. She didn't need to do this. So, why!?

Petty revenge.

Lanfen's blood boiled despite her skin freezing with her heart. Petty revenge was the only reasoning Fanghe had ever needed. He had taken from her, so she had taken more in return. Lan knew that. She had for a long time. It's confirmation still managed to dig a knife into her chest.

" _Remember, dear Father, there is no escaping me._ " No. No, there wasn't. Even dead, the witch in the recording pursued, destroyed. " _I suggest killing yourself before I find you. I promise that this is but a prelude to your suffering._ "

A static hiss, a flicker, the clip ended, began to repeat.

Lan remained kneeling on the floor, eyes unfocused. That was all there was. She clutched at her limp arm to hold herself together. That short mocking message, that was all her life had been worth. Fanghe, the Fan Shi, her father, they were ready to kill her over that short video clip.

"Well?" Nobunaga snapped, sounding far away despite being in the same crowded room. His voice pulled her to reality, if only enough to listen to the conversation and feel eyes on her back. "What did she say? Where's the item at?"

That's right. Fanghe had been speaking in Anchian. They didn't know yet. They didn't know she was useless. That her life had been a lie. That her suffering had been for nothing. They would be upset to learn their trip here had been pointless.

"I'm afraid that there isn't an item," Hisoka unexpectedly replied, cheerful. His answer drew her attention from the floor, though Lan didn't have the energy to glance behind her. The stunned silence, his satisfaction, he probably smiled brightly. "You did know that, didn't you?" he taunted, likely directing it towards Minji and Circe. "Had I alone noticed that dirty little secret?"

"What do you mean there isn't an item?" Fuming, the metallic shriek of a sword half-drawn, Nobunaga's aura flared in offense. An empty jealousy found her as his palpable irritation bathed the room. She wanted to dramatically express her devastation. But, no, instead she got to quietly sit on the floor, exhausted and broken.

"Quiet down," Franklin interrupted. "Let's hear their explanation first."

"That aura that had attacked you earlier," another voice, unrecognized, likely the mummy, added, "where did it come from if not that item?"

Machi finalized the majority, saying, "Danchou may want to know."

A huff and a sword returning to its sheath, Nobunaga stood down, mumbling about this being a waste of time. He was right.

"When you killed Joan you figured it out," Circe muttered in revelation, sighing heavily. Hisoka hummed, a wicked smile working its way into his tone. Of course, nothing slipped by him when in the heat of battle. He hadn't understood a word of Fanghe's speech. If he had, surely, he would already be taunting her over how her life meant absolutely nothing without the item. "You're all familiar with curses, I presume."

The Troupe settled with the mention of curses, welcoming useful information on the subject. Hisoka waited with a crocodile smile. He would never care about a dead woman's ability, this conversation offering him some form of entertainment. Perhaps to use against her later, or to sate his own sense of curiosity about curses. She might have focused on his motives rather than her own turmoil if she had the energy.

"Why?" A single word and her voice still managed to crack. _Why did it matter anymore?_ The item didn't exist. Whatever her ability had been, it didn't matter now. A curse was explanation enough to an audience excited to leave. She wanted to leave. She wanted to pretend this didn't happen.

The room ignored her.

"I…" Minji's rasping voice permeated sudden silence. "I do not know what I had been hoping to find." Her disappointment brought another wave of anger. The Fan Shi had no right to be upset with a fake item when they _chose_ to chase after it. Minji tapped a key, pausing Fanghe's repeated speech so her perfectly mocking face stared them down. Minji met the stare of the dead instead of facing the living. "This explained nothing." Her hand clenched with metal scraping against itself. She shook her head, tone returned to maddeningly calm. "Nothing more than I already knew." An unsteady turn, television screen lighting pale skin and white hair a sickly shade, she looked to the Troupe. Only them. "I will explain. Her Nen. The item. Everything that I have learned since the night of the massacre."

* * *

_\--Past--_

Footsteps echoed down the deserted hall. Minji shifted, Lanfen asleep and deadweight in her arms.

Why Fanghe requested her to bring Lanfen with her remained a mystery. As was the fact that she had pulled her away from her post at Jingyi's side. This celebration would soon turn into a bloodbath; Fanghe had promised such. The Bai Ze were foolish if they thought the Paijin and Fan Shi would actually believe this to be a truce summit instead of a massacre. Fanghe arranged it all. The moment Taakya gave word, they would begin eliminating the Bai Ze and their assassins- as well as Libao's loyalist followers the Bai Ze missed.

Control of the Paijin would switch hands by the end of tonight.

As odd as this unscheduled meeting logically seemed, Minji easily brushed it aside. Fanghe's orders were absolute. An odd order was no reason to disobey.

Careful not to wake the child clinging to her, Minji opened the door, quickly stepped into the room to close it softly behind her. Amongst an odd gathering of basic medical equipment sat Fanghe. She smiled in greeting, a simple wave of her hand inviting Minji closer.

Too much equipment to be a simple adjustment to Fanghe's prosthetic fingers- that Minji had proudly created. She shifted Lanfen again. "Is there something you wish me to do?"

Another smile, and Minji narrowed her eye in suspicion. Fanghe rarely wore a genuine smile. Joan might be blinded by adoration, but Minji, not so much. This was an odd expression. The curve of Fanghe's lips, she sweetly asked, "Minji, there is something important I wish you to do." Unfolding her hands from her lap, held between her fingertips, she revealed an electronic chip. One of Taakya's design. One with a slick coating of Nen. "I want you to implant this somewhere in Lanfen that would kill if her if removed by someone without medical knowledge. Like along her spine."

Minji stared. She would do as ordered, of course, but she found herself curious. She had been under the impression that, out of all of Fanghe's siblings, Lanfen was her favorite. Mostly because she was an ignorant child she could manipulate.

"You are able to that, yes, Minji?" A nod and Fanghe stood, hands open to the table. Minji eagerly set the sleeping child down. "How relieving!" Faked enthusiasm. Her actions, her words, her expressions, nearly all were an act. Fanghe could be convincing... in small doses. Or constantly, if you were Joan. "You see, I had Taakya help me record this information. It's a clue to the item."

Minji hummed to acknowledge the answer, setting to work on preparing for a minor surgery. An anesthetic to numb Lanfen's back should be enough. The kid could sleep through Adalei and Sybil arguing; a painless, small incision with minor tugging would go unnoticed. Probably.

"And the Nen?" She snapped her mouth closed when she realized she asked the question aloud.

"You are always so curious, Minji." Fanghe stood behind her, peering over her shoulder as she watched the scalpel slice into disinfected skin. "Observant. Intelligent. You like to understand the inner workings of things. You know, you remind me of myself when I was younger." Imagining Fanghe at fourteen drew a blank. Their infallible leader never seemed quite human enough for a childhood- and this came from a Meteor City native. "I used my Nen to set a condition upon that chip as protection. Only Father or I will be able to touch it. Anyone else attempting will be killed on contact."

She absently nodded. Fanghe had mentioned leaving a clue to the item's location with Lanfen a few times now. Minji thought it had merely been a rumor meant to antagonize Libao, but, then again, she failed to think of the possibility of implanting something inside of Lanfen's body. Fanghe was cruel. If Libao found out the item may physically be inside Lanfen, he would undoubtedly kill her trying to retrieve it. He would certainly be desperate enough to try after tonight. Once the Bai Ze assassins finished his loyal Paijin officials, the Fan Shi would in turn wipe out the Bai Ze. Fanghe had it all planned out to perfection- she had even shared it with both Minji and Taakya ahead of time to ensure its fruition.

A static crackle and Joan yelled over the radio for Fanghe. She immediately silenced him with the press of a button, leaving the room to deal with him and allow Minji to work without distraction. Even through the door, she could hear him shouting, overexcited enough to forget Anchian. Overdramatic fool… If anything actually went wrong, Taakya would warn them. She was staged in the security room, wired into every electronic device in the estate via her Nen.

Fanghe reentered as gunfire and screams echoed down the hall. Minji finished tying her final stitch, chip securely imbedded next to Lanfen's spine, scar presumably minimal, and the child still fast asleep. She turned on her heel to report-

Blood.

Blood sprayed from her neck before she could slap a hand over the wound. She fell to her knees, clutching her throat with blood spilling through her fingers. Eye wide with panic, she looked to Fanghe.

Fanghe finished shaking blood from her fingertips with a hint of amusement.

The moment turned into eternity as Minji's mind raced to figure out what had happened in under a second. Blood bubbled from her throat to destroy fearful questions on her lips. No matter how obvious, how blatant, Fanghe… Fanghe wouldn't just slit her throat. That didn't make sense.

"Curiosity is dangerous, Minji," Fanghe lamented, scooping up Lanfen. She cradled her to her chest, motheringly fixing her hair. Blood continued to run through Minji's helpless fingers. "You know too much, I'm afraid."

A quirk of a smile as Minji coughed up blood, unable to speak, voided Fanghe's mournful tone. Minji's Nen flickered as she fumbled for a way to save herself. She only had moments. The shallow tear in the carotid… Fanghe did it on purpose. Fanghe was fully capable of killing someone unguarded with a single hit but she chose to… Minji didn't understand. She couldn't. What had she done to deserve this? She thought Fanghe trusted her, regarded her as a valued member of the Fan Shi. What did she know that was so dangerous that Fanghe decided the risk outweighed her usefulness? Why tell her if it was such an important matter?

"Do not worry," Fanghe reassured, expression hollow. She didn't care. "Your death will not be in vain. I will tell the others that you betrayed them. That you cut into poor Lanfen in a desperate attempt to obtain the item for yourself." The kid squirmed with the introduction of cold anger in spiking Nen. Fanghe held her closer, mimicking tenderness with blood still smeared on her fingers. "Such a shame. Honestly, you were my favorite little prodigy, Minji. If only your limbs had not rotted away… With a different Nen ability, you truly would have been perfect." The screams of a massacre commenced filtered in from the hall as Fanghe opened the door. In a final taunt, she glanced over her shoulder. "I might have even hesitated to kill you."

Left to die, Minji's mind raced. She only had moments, moments that had somehow stretched to eternity with adrenaline. Skyrocketed heartbeat, agony and anger worsened the situation. She needed to calm down. She needed to act. She needed to live.

She needed to stop Fanghe.

Not only for retribution, but because she would toss away the rest of the Fan Shi as she had Minji. Taakya… Taakya was in the greatest danger. She knew the plan for tonight. She knew about the chip. She knew too much.

Fingers dug into her neck, searching. A single tear on the right side, left intact, she pinched down on either side of the nick to stem the bleeding until she had a better clamp. Her skin crawled with the searing cold sensation of Fanghe's aura- from within the room, from within her. Tearing the metal from her leg, a pulse of Nen to separate pieces for clamps to free her hands and another as a makeshift mirror…

She'd make Fanghe regret her insult of leaving her barely alive.

_\--End Past--_

* * *

Minji held up her hand, flexing metal fingers with a pulse of aura. Had she stayed in Meteor City, she would have died within days. Had she miraculously survived and then been left without a highly dexterous replacement, her dream of becoming a doctor would have remained a far-fetched fantasy. A slash to the throat, she only survived because Fanghe made it possible.

She was grateful, she supposed. Had Fanghe not taken her in, even if only for her temporary use, Minji would have had nothing, not even her life.

But this all failed to answer their simple question: what was her Nen ability?

"I believe Fanghe was a specialist," she began, looking to the paused image of Fanghe declaring a premature victory. Small clues, the few words hinting to its governing conditions, even with years to decipher it, gaping holes remained in her theory. A specialist with a bizarre control over multiple Nen categories made the most sense, yet Nen was rarely logical. "Fanghe's aura functions similarly to a curse." The prolonged nature, the persistence beyond death, and the adverse effects to the infected, curse best described the ability and the woman herself. A flimsy lie about an item had somehow been molded into an effective way to hide her Nen- a task worthy of eliminating her pawns and sibling to achieve.

"By itself, it rapidly disperses aura until the target dies." Though Fanghe never used Nen in front of them, they had seen the aftermath of interrogations and battles Fanghe had personally attended to. Life so quickly drained away, Circe had joked Fanghe was a vampire. Jokes often hid their reverent fear of her. "By integrating her aura with ours, she could tailor our abilities to both our natural proclivities and her own desires." Somehow, the rapid dispersion of Nen was only the first layer to an overreaching ability bound by innumerable conditions.

"Secondarily, she made us into biological weapons."

Quiet curiosity, no gasps of surprise, the Phantom Troupe was a tough crowd to impress. Circe had been livid, though she arguably had a vested interest. Lanfen's silence after being delivered the devastating news the item never existed, Minji understood. She must feel betrayed. Betrayed like Minji had been by Fanghe that night.

"As a side effect," she continued, "her Nen inhibits our sense of pain, which in turn makes us reckless. We fight beyond the natural limitations of our bodies." Shattered bones, damaged organs, missing limbs, without pain overriding their bodies to prevent further damage, they could fight on. A bit of experimentation, and it was likely they could undermine limitations on muscles that kept them from shredding with overuse- Adalei had been close to achieving just that.

Minji remembered pain. Living without it, it had been a gift she formerly had no reason to question. It wasn't until she was stitching her own throat together that she realized Fanghe's intent. "And, as you have witnessed, should we die in battle, we become vessels to pass the curse to our killers." A glance at the samurai and the magician, both had the disrupted aura flow of a second spent too close to a Fan Shi corpse. Anyone below their caliber would have faced worse consequences.

She looked to Lanfen, adding, "The reason we can perceive and differentiate such specific sensations between our auras is the connection we share via the remnants of Fanghe's aura." Coordinating a group of children, Fanghe probably thought it'd be useful if they could sense each other easily. Alternatively, their connection may have made it easier for Fanghe to teach them. It was another difficult-to-answer question without Fanghe.

"She disguised her Nen ability by fabricating a lie about an item," Machi summed up, losing interest in being here. The Phantom Troupe, Minji guessed their original mission had been to obtain the item, nothing more. At some point, Chrollo had grown attached to Lanfen as well. At least they were as perplexed about that fact as Minji was. Then again, he did like his strays. Dependent on how much, they may still yet face his wrath.

"An ability like that, it would have had a number of restrictions," Franklin said, analyzing, piecing together what happened without further explanation. "Concealing it might have been a condition meant to strengthen it."

Irritation broke into his voice as Nobunaga asked, "Then why not just hide it?"

Circe stepped beside Minji in warning as she considered answering that question. Fanghe in all her pettiness… How would someone discover her ability if she had not first created a rumor about an item with the same effects? Fanghe was an outstanding liar and actress that could have kept everything secret _if she had wanted to_. The only motive Minji could find in taking that unnecessary risk was to taunt Libao. If she could not directly reveal her Nen, then she could not taunt him with it. An item, she could dangle that in front of him. This final message she left him only seemed to prove that.

"Nen that persists beyond death," Hisoka absently said, his attention on silent Lanfen, "isn't it fascinating, fledgling?" Lanfen dutifully ignored him. Eyes shifted back to the girl kneeling on the floor.

Her expression blank, eyes empty, her hollow voice ordered, "Continue." Fingers digging into her palm, a delayed response broke her. "I said continue!" she shrieked, venom cracking every word. Knife-blade aura sputtered, her eyes shining with tears.

Lanfen was the only one that wished to hear how that night had ended.

Minji looked away.

She had done her part, hadn't she? Explaining that the item didn't exist, that it had instead been a Nen ability, was where her obligation ended. The Phantom Troupe was her problem, and they all looked ready to leave.

"Tell me!" Shuffling, Lanfen managed to stumble back to her feet. Unsteady steps, Minji glanced over shoulder, nails dragging across her cheek under her eye. "Tell me why," she growled as Minji stepped back, held a hand to her bleeding cheek. Had she the strength to use Nen… That would have gouged out her eye.

Lanfen lunged again as nearby metal twisted with actual anger. Before being struck, Lanfen flew back, slamming into Hisoka's chest. His grin was absent. Barely contained bloodlust tainted the room. No matter how much Lanfen fought, his Nen kept her in place. When she slumped against him in momentary defeat, Minji reluctantly dropped her Nen.

"Hisoka, kill her." Lanfen clawed at the arm snaking around her waist to hold her back. "I don't care what you want in return, just-"

"Now I'm positive that you've lost it, darling." When he pulled her against him, she kicked him in the shin, almost toppling over in her battered condition. She tried again when he laughed, grew more frantic when his lips went to her ear to add, "Be a good girl and behave. You are in no condition to be fighting anyone let alone me."

Her nails raked skin. "Don't touch me," she ordered, panic leaching into her tone.

If she hadn't tried to remove her eye, Minji might have interrupted. By leaving. She was ready to go, if the Phantom Troupe had exhausted their questions. Speaking of, they watched the spectacle with a mix of disgust and interest.

"Okay," he suddenly said, releasing Lanfen.

Lanfen stumbled a few steps away before landing back on her knees to look miserable. Chrollo was certainly the only reason this pathetic sniveling kid avoided capture as long as she had. Muted devastation would be situation-appropriate. Minji had been quite upset to learn of Fanghe's betrayal, but this childish tantrum Lanfen was throwing was just that: childish.

Minji had no reason to answer. The Phantom Troupe would have long since spoken over Lanfen's fit if they wished to know anything more.

"Minji." Circe set a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running off. Minji glanced away from the fake pout on Circe's lips, her eyes revealing irritation and some form of sympathy. "Fanghe played with her life just as much as she did yours." Trying to compare them… Minji was not this near bawling child before her. No, she fought against Fanghe's will, sought revenge for her betrayal, and dismantled her legacy. She accomplished something- no matter what it ended up costing. "She deserves to know what happened," Circe asserted. "Tell her, or I will." _And I won't spare details_ was the unsaid threat. Minji doubted it, but, if it would make Circe happy, then-

"Fine."

* * *

_\--Past--_

Minji stumbled from the blood-soaked control room. Taakya had suffered the same betrayal, her throat slit by Fanghe. Rare for Joan to be freaking out over something valid, but she guessed his panicked call had been because Taakya failed to answer him. Fanghe hadn't left for her concentration's sake. No, she wanted to calm Joan down, so he didn't ruin her trickery- he was a prime candidate to keep around as a pawn, after all.

More important than a cooling corpse was the data Taakya must have scrambled to save as she drowned in blood. Names. A set of account numbers. Security cameras trained on an imposing man moments away from setting out to fulfill a contract. Taakya had made her last wish clear.

She had all she needed.

Minji struggled down the hall. Gunfire and screams throughout the building, the Bai Ze assassins were less than stealthy, triggering a shootout. So much for the agreement to not bring weapons to the party.

Through an archway to an area overlooking the chaos, Minji clutched the railing, head spinning. Joan and Virgil covered Jingyi's escape. Circe and Syibl played with a few Bai Ze assassins. Adalei was busy swinging furniture around at anyone within range. Finally, silvery white hair and the grandeur of the name Zoldyck, her eye landed on the assassin. Bullets bounced off him like fleas flicked away. Gunmen fell to the ground following the flicker of thrown weapons, a small shadow trailing the man. Fanghe finished gutting a brother, mocking victory speech ensuing.

Her head whipped around when Minji flared her aura the tiniest fraction.

"You did this," she rasped, knowing her message would reach Fanghe even if her words didn't.

The moment she had discovered Taakya, found the information she left, Minji had tracked down the assassin with one hope: he valued money more than the hire order. He had humored the blood-soaked teen offering him the Paijin and Fan Shi fortunes.

Fanghe stepped away from the corpse, minute surprise killed as she intended to trim loose ends. The next second her throat spattered blood on the floor as she quickly fell to her knees. A messy kill, too messy for a renowned assassin. Fanghe screamed in agony, noise distorted by blood drowning her. Hands desperate to stop the bleeding, wide eyes revealed unparalleled fear and fury.

She collapsed in a pool of red.

It was over too soon. Anticlimactic, Fanghe died, only a few moments of suffering her punishment for a lifetime of lies.

_\--End Past--_

* * *

Lanfen focused on anger, because the moment she didn't, she knew she'd break down in a pathetic, stressed mess of tears. And Minji, she was the epicenter of rumbling rage.

Everything. Fanghe's ambition had continually sought to end her life, but she wasn't the sole puppeteer. The moment Minji had Fanghe killed, she picked up the strings to the puppet called the Fan Shi. Framing this shit as revenge, _justified_ revenge, she could go rot with the rest of the Fan Shi and Fanghe.

"You used them."

An uttered sentence and Minji's attention shot to Lanfen, crawl of cold metal on her skin. "They refused to believe that Fanghe had betrayed us, that she had killed Taakya and then attempted to kill me. There was no salvation for them when they refused to see Fanghe as anything less than their god."

Oh, if that wasn't admitting guilt. "So, you betrayed them?" The immediate nerve struck, Lanfen wanted Minji upset. If a few hypocritical statements did that, then Lan would shove that guilt down her throat. "Couldn't let the past die?"

"They would have pursued you regardless." Minji's voice flattened as she tried to hide that spark of irritation. Too bad that snippy response gave her away. "Had I allowed them to slice you apart, Fanghe's aura would have destroyed that chip. She had lied when she said only she and Libao would be able to touch it. I implanted it." She shrugged off the hand Circe had set on her shoulder, Circe picking up on the fact the metal sculpture began to fall apart to reveal the human underneath. A step towards Lanfen, violet sheen threatening to lash out, she hissed, "She neglected that in her explanation only because she believed I would be dead."

"So, you killed them because they were in the way of what you wanted?"

"I didn't-"

"You're just like her."

A step brought chaos. Minji's metal arm unraveling, Lanfen threw her arm in front of her face. Metal crunching, a metallic shriek, shuffling, more Nen flooding the room. Lan dropped her arm when movement stilled. Hisoka stood behind her, reaching over her, fingers tight around Minji's wrist, metal twisted and bent from his grip. The tip of a sword rested at Minji's neck, Circe's bleeding hand the only thing that stopped it from slicing through. Machi's threads disappeared as Franklin lowered his hands and the mummy stepped back.

For some bizarre reason, it made Lan happy. Almost like she was worth something even after the item ended up being fake.

"Danchou said he wants her alive," Nobunaga grumbled as he dropped his sword to his side. Hisoka released Minji's wrist, Circe dragging her backwards, chiding her in a whisper. Nobunaga gave an exasperated sigh, complaining, "I don't see why, but Machi's usually not wrong." He looked to Lan, pointing as he unnecessarily clarified, "So don't think that we're protecting you."

If she had been in a better mood, her lips might have twitched into a sad smile. Chrollo had such loyal friends.

"I wanted to know why! Just as you did," Minji spat, calm veneer completely wiped away. Circe wrapped her arms around her as Minji's teeth buried in her lip, as her body shook with bitter rage. Instead of feeling victorious, Lan felt numb. She hated this woman, what she had done, wouldn't mind seeing her head removed, but she understood. Sort of. "I wanted to believe she had a reason more than wanting the Paijin title!"

And Lan wanted to be more than just a container for a mocking message. But that was the truth. This was their fucking reality. No amount of denial would change that.

Any comfort earned in antagonizing enemies was null. Everything had ultimately been for nothing in her eyes. Her life had been built around a cruel joke Fanghe had left behind, the intended recipient also long dead. The devastating futility of her struggle was absolutely crushing. The heavy emptiness in her chest might be the closest she got to perceiving pain.

Minji had been chasing ghosts as much as Lanfen had been running from them. Her choices led her to this point. Not Fanghe. Obsession baited Minji into repeating the betrayal Fanghe had committed, all the while she found ways to justify her actions. She had become Fanghe in seeking revenge against her, copied all her treacheries to obtain an item. Not _the_ item, but a little video clip instead.

Lanfen realized, now, that her father was very wrong. She wasn't just like Fanghe. No, Fanghe had ambitions. She schemed, manipulated her situation and others with lies to forward her interests. She pursued her goal so relentlessly that even death didn't completely stop her meticulous planning. She did so alone, without hiding behind others. Just using them. Fanghe… Fanghe was remarkable in a twisted way that even Lanfen couldn't completely deny. To have so many people convinced she was either the devil incarnate or a pious deity, to still be worshiped out of fear or love well beyond her death, that was amazing.

The first cold tear rolled down her cheek.

Scared and weak, hiding from the past, fear defined them as much as selfishness. Lanfen was her father. If that didn't make her feel lower than finding out the one thing that made her valuable didn't even exist…

An errant buzz and a curious hum disrupted the silence. "Time for the little spider-lings to run along," Hisoka shooed, the hostility in the air tangible. His hand patted Lan's head as he likely smiled away at irritating the Spiders. "No need to worry. I'll keep an eye on our mutual friend here until-" his nails dug into her scalp as he tilted her head back to meet eyes- "her owner comes to collect her."

He let her go, pouting at her complete failure to react. Tiring. So tiring.

She barely registered the quiet exchange that was the Phantom Troupe filing from the room. A few complaints, a teasing remark from Hisoka, and icy glares were all that marked their exit. After all, they had to leave if Chrollo was truly on his way. She didn't know if she believed that. He had no reason, now.

Her attention fixated on a point on the floor, footsteps failed to draw interest. Unrecognized shoes only convinced her to remain silent.

"Hey," Circe began, sounding awkward, "so, ah… Have this." Something was thrust into her face, a fraction from her nose. When she didn't grab it, Circe dropped it on her lap. A photo album. "It was Joan's. I know Fanghe is probably the last thing you want to see, but there's pictures of Jingyi and you in it. Joan…" A heavy sigh sparked a touch of anger. She helped Minji get him killed. She didn't get to sound sad. Lan didn't have the energy to scream about it. "He had felt bad about burning all her things." Another thing dropped on her lap. "Here's your phone." The black screen, the spiderweb of cracks in the glass, her damn phone managed to make a few tears slip. It was just one more thing broken today. "It's dead, got a bit beat up in Joan's pocket while fighting your clown buddy, but it should still work."

A pause may have been meant for a response. Lan continued to stare at the unwanted gift and her broken phone, uninterested in talking with them. She just wanted them gone.

"Minji," Circe added, shuffling steps and another pair of shoes appearing as she dragged Minji closed, "can answer any questions regarding the curse and its effects on us. Chrollo knows how to contact us if you need something." That's it. The reason that she was suddenly acting oh-so nice. Circe wanted to prove them more useful alive than dead. To Chrollo. Because Lan wasn't a threat. "I understand that this is a lot to take in after… everything. Just know that we're not enemies." _And pass that message on to Chrollo_.

With fading footsteps down the hall, the room emptied to one obstacle keeping her from solitude.

Hisoka stood behind her, peering over her shoulder. She refused to look up and meet his gaze. Instead, she tried moving her right arm. A second's effort and it fell, smashed her knuckles on the floor. Any positive thoughts at slight movement drowned, no optimism left.

Despite her best interests, she sought out more pain, setting aside her broken phone to open the photo album. Immediately more tears rolled down her face to land on a plastic-sleeved photograph. She wanted her mother here as more than a scrap of paper and faded memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise? There is no item. That’s why everything surrounding it was so vague, why its existence was doubted at several points. 
> 
> A harsh end to the Fan Shi arc, but it will push Lanfen into further development, i promise. 
> 
> On another note, Fanghe’s Nen in nutshell (or the info-dump I refuse to do in story). She was a specialist with her aura functioning like a curse by means of dispersing aura (similar to how an exorcist removes hostile Nen). With that and added conditions, she created the Fan Shi. Those conditions were 1) no one could know about the ability 2) physical sacrifice in the form of portions of her fingers and 3) the subjects’ loss of pain. With those conditions followed, she could curse the Fan Shi without instantly killing them, instead incorporating her Nen with them and using it to directly awaken, influence, and train them in Nen. As a residual effect of her aura connecting them all, they could read the same aura impressions Fanghe could. Her incorporated aura, a curse then amplified by her death, also spreads to disperse and kill anyone that has catastrophically injured/killed a Fan Shi member. The reason it goes unnoticed until then, is it is always disguised by In, hidden from Gyo under normal circumstances because it is ‘beneath’ the cursed’s own aura. For villain that’s been dead for the entire story, she’s truly wicked.


	37. Dusk: Dawn

Silence pervaded.

Hisoka had long since lost interest in watching Lan throw herself a pity party, but he wasn't quite sure what else he should be doing in the meantime. He could pretend she still offered more entertainment than standing alone in the hall as he waited for Chrollo to show up with the game console. She didn't, though.

Lan found out her entire life had been built around an extravagant lie, and how Lan loathed lies. This had to be devastating. Truly, this might finish breaking her.

And that irritated him.

He always said he would break her first, yet he would get no satisfaction if he pushed her over the edge right now. Her battered body wouldn't hold through even a friendly sparring match. Tears openly streaming down her cheeks as she looked through photos, her mental state was just as abysmal. He couldn't even get her to engage in unrelated conversation. No fun at all.

As mentioned, he really should find something to occupy his time. Building a card tower would be more entertaining than watching Lan mope. Her crying, while silent, somehow managed to annoy him immensely. Probably because she would keep crying no matter what. Anything he tried would come off as insincere- it would be, of course, but that wasn't the point. Yet, here he remained. Maybe it was morbid curiosity and a vested interest. After all, if she failed to pull through this, she would be useless to him _and_ Chrollo. That would be _such_ a shame that he would have to kill her out of disappointment. But, whatever she had done to her aura to defeat that floor master, he wanted a taste. _Badly_.

How much she had grown since their rendezvous in Yorknew… If Chrollo was the cause, he swore-

"Hisoka?"

Her timid voice ripped his attention from his thoughts. "Yes, fledgling?" he answered sweetly, hopeful. It would be so boring if she sunk into a silly depression over this.

"Why didn't you kill me?" And, immediately, he could tell he didn't like this conversation. They had been over this _multiple_ times. "You wanted to." _Had_ wanted to. Frustrating little fledgling… She needed to learn to leave things in the past.

"I had been about to, yes, but that woman's Nen decided to make itself known." Is that what she wanted? To hear that the only reason he had spared her had been that aura? "It distracted me long enough to realize there was still plenty we could do together, darling."

"You-" The spark of anger fizzled with exhaustion. "You really wouldn't have let me live otherwise." A statement of fact opposed to a question, she knew him well. Yet not well enough to understand his fickle nature decided he wanted her again. And what, did she expect him to find that woman more interesting? He had already forgotten her name, to be honest. She was _dead_. She was _boring_.

"No," he said, frustration flattening his tone. This girl, she never ceased to annoy him… In a way he must find endearing considering he was tolerating it. He should be taunting her, tearing her down to earn her hatred, all to make her stronger, not trying to comfort her and indulge this weakness. "My interest in _you_ ," he stressed, "hasn't disappeared. Your potential is mine. _You're_ mine."

"Yours…" She mulled over his claim, usual distaste lost in her broken, quiet voice. All the fight seemed gone, and he _hated_ it. Where was the girl that had punched him in the face over an innocent kiss? "Hisoka, leave me alone." Said so civilly, not even a sputter of bloodlust laced aura…

Hisoka stepped back from her, pouting, arms crossed over his chest as he turned on his heel to stalk out of the room. Nothing he did or said would help. Only hinder. Much to his already irritated irritation, Chrollo would have to deal with her. His silly little fledgling had made the mistake of trusting him once, and she was a glutton for punishment when it came to things like trust. Even after painstakingly explaining that Chrollo had been using her, she probably forgave him with a precious few words from that silver-tongued bastard. But, if Hisoka wanted her back in working order, a sacrifice would be necessary. Chrollo could coddle her for a bit if that's what fixing her required.

He didn't care about her. He cared about fighting her. He shouldn't need to keep reminding himself of that… He blamed Chrollo for making this a competition of a different sort.

Hisoka didn't like losing.

* * *

Chrollo stepped through the remains of what had once been a warehouse. The roof torn from the structure and the ground littered with debris, his Spiders had wreaked their usual havoc. On his way to a partial doorway leading underground, he passed three mounds. Fresh graves, presumably.

Sybil had escaped her end once more, hadn't she? Unfortunate.

Circe had neglected mentioning that minor detail in her report. She had sent him an elaborate text message explaining the situation before telling him when he could come collect his toys.

While a shame, the item had become of little consequence to him. He had told Lanfen the truth. He wanted her more. Fanghe's aura would have been more interesting if he could steal it. He wondered, briefly, what would happen if Lanfen had the curse exorcised; however, he quickly concluded that suddenly perceiving pain would be more of a curse to her.

Circe said Lanfen had been injured. The extent she had noticeably omitted. His brows furrowed as his eyes narrowed. Not yet a Spider, but if irreparable harm had befallen her, then he would ensure retribution against them. He could resolve a broken spirit with a bit of work. (Truthfully, he planned to use this moment to break her resistance so she would give herself to him completely. The opportunity presented itself, and he would take it.) If Machi could not repair her body, he certainly couldn't. Irreparable harm would seriously hamper his plans.

Down the hall came the familiar sound of a concrete wall being rhythmically impaled by cards. Hisoka had lingered, as expected, to return to Greed Island and continue the search. The unexpected aspect happened to be why he chose to wait in a forgotten hallway instead of with Lanfen. She would be vulnerable, right now. Enough that Chrollo had been concerned that Hisoka may take advantage of her. Their interactions almost promised that. Was her condition so poor as to make _Hisoka_ concerned?

Hisoka leaned against one wall, smile absent as he sent another card into the opposite. Gold eyes flickered to Chrollo to acknowledge his presence. Continued silence felt almost strange. Chrollo's unsaid question lingered in the air for a time, another card in the wall punctuating Hisoka's refusal to answer.

So, Chrollo asked something worse. "Why are you not with Lanfen?"

"Hmm?" Hisoka glanced at him. A card shattered the abused wall, shards flying into their faces. "Her inconsolable sobbing had gotten on my nerves is all." A lie as it may be, as unflinching as Chrollo's expression might have been, Hisoka grinned anyway. "And here I thought you would be happy that I left her alone. She was _begging_ me to go kill the rest of them." A flick of his fingers and unseen Bungee Gum retrieved more than a dozen cards from the rubble. He shuffled the cards before making them disappear with a flourish of his hands. Slow steps, and he stood at Chrollo's side, leaning in so his mouth rested by his ear. "On her knees, she said she would do _anything_ for me if I did."

"You didn't accept her offer?"

No response was followed by Hisoka rudely rummaging through Chrollo's bag for the console, extra sure to jerk him around as he did so. Lanfen's condition must have him truly bothered; he walked right into that remark. Usually he was sharper, or at least had a witty comeback. Now he wanted to leave without protest or insult.

Once Hisoka had the console exposed, he finally answered, "She's at the end of the hall on the left." A flicker of aura pressing down on him, a flash of energy, and Chrollo found himself alone. Brevity and Hisoka were an odd, unsettling, combination.

His footsteps echoed down the hall to announce himself. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her. He needed to be comforting, someone she could trust. He-

He froze in the doorway.

Dim light from a monitor lit an otherwise shadowed room. Sat on the floor was Lanfen. Bare back to him, her shirt abandoned, her skin revealed all. A harsh mosaic of deep purple bruises crossed by red-lined scratches and flaking blood spatter, not a piece of skin was left unmarked. Her right arm fell limp at her side, bandages hiding severe damage. Eyes narrowed, he took a few cautious steps towards her. No reaction. Her attention remained downcast, focused on her lap.

Carefully, he kneeled behind her, whispered her name softly as he reached out. She didn't flinch away. Skin cold under his fingers, the failure to respond, she seemed lifeless. He hadn't needed to approach her like a wounded animal. No, he needed the gentleness of handling cracked porcelain. He brought his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his chest. Her hair in his face, she reeked. Blood. Sweat. Everything unpleasant. As his eyes traveled down to her lap, he saw bruising around her neck. Their rather brief time apart since her abduction, she had been sentenced to hell.

Hell that he would repay tenfold.

This was probably soul-crushing enough without the physical injuries. A puppet to a lie, second in importance to something that never existed, her struggle meant, essentially, nothing without the item. Her life meant nothing. _She_ was nothing. And finding out you were nothing, he understood the desolation in that.

A shaky whisper, an incomprehensible word, Lanfen drew in a sharp breath to choke back a sound. That last bit of control, she held onto it tightly. Breaking down into actual sobs, she adamantly refused to show that level of human vulnerability. "It," she mumbled, voice hoarse, "it was fake."

He turned his face into her hair, held her closer. "I know."

"Why did-" her voice cracked, trying to betray the raw emotions tearing at her heart. "Then why did you come?"

"For you, Lanfen," he reassured, giving her exactly what she wanted to hear. Even if she was nothing to everyone else, she was important to him. To matter, that's all she'd ever wanted. He could provide that in return- "For you."

At the compound he realized exactly why he wanted her: she was another part to integrate. As a Spider. As another piece to a whole. He wanted to explore this, them, further. He wanted to investigate why. He wanted to experiment in concepts like intimacy and empathy and love, in things he didn't consider himself capable of. His nose buried in her hair, he pulled her into him, tightened his embrace. No, he wasn't keen to let go of her now.

"Chrollo," her small voice interrupted his internal declaration, "I want to go home."

A quirk of smile, he nodded into her hair. "Of course." His hand lingered on her shoulder when she tried to force herself to her feet, her exhausted body trembling. "Let me care for you," he said, firmly but gently. Even tired and upset, she seemed to catch his meaning. She didn't need to be strong right now. It was safe for her to be vulnerable with him. Cold fingers weakly wrapped around his. "Trust me?" he added as she contemplated accepting comfort or throwing his hand away.

A tip of her head elated him.

She let his fingers slip from hers as he stood. Once in front of her, he crouched down to collect what she had been intently staring at when he had arrived: a photo album opened to the first page. She allowed him to lift it from her lap. Before closing the cover, he stole a glance. His eyes fell on a single photo. Two women and an infant. Wholly uninterested in Fanghe, he stared at the other, his breath held. Lanfen's mother… His own mother wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about. Yet, Lanfen, she kept accidentally bringing her to the forefront of his mind. Now… Now because he realized he had no photographs or keepsakes or anything to remember his mother. Just hazy memories and himself. Sentimentality was something he so rarely felt. In fact, it was one of the things he understood the least. What made something important? What gave something value? What made nothing something?

He closed the album, tucking it under his arm. That pain was for later. Right now, he had a mission.

After pocketing her phone, he offered her his hand again to help her from the floor. Tired legs gave out. On instinct, he caught her by wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her close. Her face pressed to his chest as she leaned against him. A few moments passed before she was stable enough to stand on her own. Her focus on the floor, she reached out. He returned the precious photo album to her without protest. As she cradled it to her chest like he had her, he slipped his jacket from his shoulders. Her eyes flickered to his as he draped it around her. She relaxed under it, violent shivering tapering to a tremble.

His hands freed, he caressed her bruised cheeks, brought ashamed eyes to his. Carefully wiping tears away, he hoped he conveyed some amount sincerity in his actions. It wasn't all a lie. Seeing her so thoroughly beaten, he didn't like it. No, rather than disgust or disappointment or enjoyment, his chest tightened with pity and, perhaps, sympathy for this poor abused creature.

An arm around her waist to support her, only their footsteps broke the silence of the decayed building. Passing through the rubble of a downed wall and twisted metal reinforcements, she hesitated, muscles tensing. In the dark of the room, he could make out the outline of a collapsed metal table and a single chair. Then a broken watch and familiar fabric.

"Do you want it back?" he offered, unsure. She was sentimental to have kept the silly bandana and watch from their outing. The actual question on his tongue would be too painful to ask. The abandoned personal items, the ring of cuts and bruises around her wrist… They had kept her bound in a room reminiscent of her childhood bedroom after abducting her from the site of her trauma. If that wasn't torture enough…

Minji, Circe, and Sybil, the moment he regained his Nen, he was personally-

Lanfen turned into him, pressed her face to his shoulder. She shook her head 'no' to his voiced question. "They poisoned me," she mumbled, answering his unsaid question, "and it- hallucinations and I-" she sucked in a breath, body quaking. He helplessly combed through her hair. Emotions were such awful things. "Was so scared and-" He couldn't change what had already happened as much change a predetermined future.

Crushed, his heart stopped for a moment. He hated feeling helpless. He hated that Lanfen felt helpless. "They will regret this," he promised, accidentally aloud.

Another moment to collect herself, her eyes returning to the floor, he continued leading her outside. Past destruction and graves, the evening air stung with night's chill. She shrunk into him, once more shivering. He might have dragged her to a hospital if he thought she would cooperate. Pale and a second from collapse, hidden under the bandages was likely a wound that had caused significant blood loss. Bandages… The wound had to be horrific if Machi couldn't fully close it with her Nen alone. Scars would be an inescapable reminder of her pain.

Parked on a side street leading into the area, they arrived at her aunt's car. Retrieving it had been… troublesome. Convincing the foxes to take him back to the farmhouse had been a nightmare without Lanfen- yet walking would have been worse, considering he wanted to reach her as soon as possible. When he actually got to the farmhouse and to the car, he had a shotgun aimed at his face by an old woman convinced he had killed Lanfen out in the woods- he almost had, in letting her take that attack for him. He talked his way out it, of course, but it had been something else. Lanfen would probably find the story hilarious under different circumstances. He hoped he could tell her, later. What he wouldn't do to have her smile right now… That might be enough to convince him she would be okay, eventually.

He opened the back door to grab a blanket he had spotted earlier, but she wordlessly pulled away from him to crawl into the backseat. She curled up, hiding under the blanket to block out the world. Best to let her be. He doubted she would allow herself to sleep, no matter how much she needed to, but giving her time to process while in safety would also help. He hoped.

He lied to himself when he said he would be willing to remake her. That meant she had to first break and seeing her this miserable… A whisper, the regret in his voice-

"I'm sorry, Lanfen."

* * *

A coin spun in front of her, another gift in a growing pile. The crow nudged at her hand, shrill squawk piercing morning stillness. The crow on her shoulder shuffled, hunkering down into the crook of her neck. The two on her lap squabbled over a shiny chain, eager to present it to her first. Others watched from their perches, chattering, concerned.

Several days had passed.

Lan shifted, giving into a desperate plea for attention from the crow poking at her hand. Dubious control over her right arm, feeling as numbed as the rest of her, she patted the bird with her left. Warm and soft feathers soothed chilled fingers.

 _Several_ days.

In the earliest hours of morning, they had arrived home. The car ride, the onset of complete exhaustion when minimally safe, Chrollo had had to carry her inside. Auntie had been waiting. The shouting, the anger she mistakenly aimed at Chrollo… The moment Lan forced out that the item was fake, she had fallen horror-struck silent.

A beak picking at the loose edge of a bandage, she shooed the crow away.

In hindsight, she was glad Chrollo and Auntie had forced her into a bath the moment hostility was set aside. Like a child, Auntie had to help her remove blood-soaked clothes from bruised skin and into the water. Water that had quickly clouded with grim. Redressed and on the edge of her bed, Chrollo had gently peeled away old bandages as Auntie fetched replacements from her stash. His fingers almost seemed to tremble as he brushed them over gouged lines of raw flesh. Then again, her vision had been wobbling from fresh tears at seeing the damage for the first time.

She didn't know. Chrollo was just… She didn't know.

Sighing heavily, she stole the chain from the crows on her lap as they started getting violent.

The duration of the week, she hadn't said a single word to him. She didn't know what to think, let alone say. Chrollo had stayed despite… everything. He'd witnessed her entire world torn away, saw her at her absolute worst, and yet… He didn't abandon her. He didn't even seem to judge her for it. No disappointment in her emotional spiral. At most, he expressed anger towards the Fan Shi. Since that night in the rubble of her life, he offered affection and comfort that she was free to decline or accept. The countless hours she spent cuddled up to him, his arm around her shoulders as she sat beside him, his fingers absently combing through her hair as she rested her head on his lap, he expected nothing from her.

That gave her time. Time to process some of the hell presented to her. It would be outright denial to say she was over what happened. She wasn't. She wouldn't be for some time. But, without expectations and some minor distance from raw emotional turmoil, she could think. Think about a future rather than a past.

She scooted the crows off her lap, the one on her shoulder hopping down as she collected their gifts. Some cawed while others wished her 'bye-bye' in copied baby-talk. Quietly, in case Auntie finally managed to sleep despite the stress of Lan's listlessness and returned nightmares, she opened the door and sneaked back inside. After shedding her coat to drape it on the back of a chair next to her bag and after removing her shoes, her steps slowed as she began her search.

He wasn't difficult to find in an already small house. Like most mornings, Chrollo sat on the couch, a cup of tea beside him and a borrowed book in hand. Her eyes went to the floor before his could flicker upward to meet her gaze. His patience, he would always outlast her in a waiting game. She feared finding a lie in his eyes.

She carefully sat beside him, tucking her legs under her as she cuddled up to him. Without glancing away from his book, he invited her closer, his arm around her shoulders. For a few silent moments, she allowed herself to just enjoy his presence, his warmth. She liked being near him, liked the affection he so freely offered, and that was the problem. It would be so easy for this to be a lie. It didn't take a genius to use a general deprivation of affection and some emotional turmoil against her. Even knowing that it was a possibility- a strong possibility given the perpetrator- she still wanted to believe him. Being around him felt so… not wrong it made her worry.

Something about having your entire reality ripped away made you question the validity of your judgement. Not that she much trusted herself to begin with.

"Chrollo?" She fiddled with the edge of a bandage, carefully raising her gaze to his face. He lowered his book marginally, waiting. "Why are you still here?"

A quirk of smile pulled his lips. "For you," he said again, words so sweet and sincere her eyes sought the safety of her lap.

Did she dare believe him? Without the imminent threat of death and the need for immediate comfort from any source, she should be thinking more clearly, yet… She still felt so lost.

She enjoyed his company, obviously. She enjoyed the fluffy cuddly stuff, too. He made her happy in a way few things, let alone people, did. No, he was more an animal. Not in the demeaning way using 'pet' would be, but more like Yan or Tai. A friend, she supposed. Yet, she could not dismiss that she had only truly known him a single month- with most of that time spent running from her worst nightmare. How much of their relationship was a lie?

Then there were the festering facts. A future would involve the Phantom Troupe. As in being a member if she didn't want to be his 'vacation from reality' whenever he had the spare time and the urge. The Phantom Troupe terrified her, now. Not because of their power, either. Outcasts gathered under the leadership of one stunning individual, the Fan Shi had once been the Phantom Troupe. She had seen the aftermath of such a group self-destructing. The overlap of manipulative charismatic liar… On the surface, Chrollo was also alarmingly similar to Fanghe.

At the same time, she admired the devil she had met in Yorknew. For all his strength and intelligence, and, more importantly, that he had clawed his way from the nothingness of Meteor City to become the wholly terrifying Spider. Revenge in its own right, but nothing near as petty as Fanghe's.

Conflicted, she needed time. She needed to find a future instead of avoiding a past or drifting in the present. This decision, if she didn't want to regret it, she needed to make it herself. And, to best do that…

Lan shifted, regaining his attention with a hand on his cheek bringing his face to hers. His curious eyes, grey reflecting the warm hues of sunrise, filled her vision. Lightly, she touched her lips to his. Her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her lips to his in a genuine kiss. He abandoned his book to hold her closer, moved his mouth against hers so tenderly it may have once broken her resolve. Instead he just twisted her heart in the most pleasant of ways.

When they parted, her hand trailing to his chest, Lan felt a trace of a smile pulling at her lips. The smug satisfaction on this jerk's face, he thought he'd won.

"No."

A half-second delay, bemused, he smiled. "No?"

"No matter what, you'll always be trying to convince me to join the Spider. Now is the perfect opportunity." _Even if it means using my breakdown to your advantage_. Granted, he could have done so much more cruelly. The fact she felt grateful for such a small kindness proved her decision necessary. She needed to be away from his influence, from everyone's influence. "So, no." She shrugged, trying to brush off the severity of her decision, her fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt, her nerves singing with familiar anticipatory dread. She _was_ saying no to the leader of the Phantom Troupe, after all. His silence would soon become scary. "Do you have an issue with that?"

He leaned back, focus on the ceiling, subtle smile still hinting at amusement. When he raised his hand, her nervous fiddling froze. As he touched his lips, she knew. The contradiction in rejection and acceptance, in repulsion and attraction. That kiss had betrayed her.

A chuckle sent her spine straight. "Not at all," he said, hand gently cupping her cheek. She immediately relaxed. He brought her closer, resting his forehead against hers. The intensity of his gaze, she couldn't avoid it. The intimacy of the moment made her stomach flip. "Rather, I like that answer more." His lips almost against hers as he spoke, his breath tickled her skin. She wanted to kiss him as much as shove him away. "I require someone that can function on their own as much as follow orders. My focus cannot, nor will it ever, be on an individual." The Spider above all else. That would be their relationship, and he had no intention of hiding that fact. "In the most affectionate sense, I still wish you to be mine." A brief kiss killed her pout at a still possessive phrase. He understood her so well. Too well. "I also promised you your freedom." He leaned back, brushing aside stray locks of hair to free her vision. A carefully devised act or genuine impulsive affection, until she knew which, this needed to be goodbye. Despite that, she leaned into his touch. "I find you worth waiting for, Lanfen."

"Is that a lie?"

"No. I can promise that, if you wish."

"You don't feel like you've wasted your time?"

"I quite enjoyed our time together."

She swallowed down another 'are you lying?' His thumb traced over her cheekbone as she scowled at the floor. Before his hand left her face, his fingers tilted her chin to bring her attention back to him.

"You didn't know the item was fake, right?" The subject incensed a flicker of anger in the numbness.

Because Hisoka did. His ignorance to the past had long lost its charm. If he had told her about that other aura sooner- A tightened grip, her fingers clutched Chrollo's shirt. What-ifs meant nothing. What happened couldn't be changed. That didn't make it hurt less.

"I thought its existence was perhaps far-fetched, but still within the realm of possibility." He worked her fingers free from his shirt, holding her hand. She couldn't tell if he actually enjoyed physical contact or if it was a sacrifice to an act. "May I remind you that obtaining the item had been of secondary interest?" Pretty words in an imploring voice, she couldn't tell if he was lying.

Trust. She could only trust him. She didn't even trust herself, so trusting him… She couldn't. She couldn't do it.

"I need time."

She moved to stand, her fingers slipping from his hold. Chrollo remained as she walked away. An understood goodbye, neither said another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lan is off to take a much needed vacation in the woods with Yan and Tai. On a lighter note, know that she took Auntie's car, that Auntie heard her car leaving, and was supremely offended to see Chrollo still sat in her living room enjoying his morning tea. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a sort of 'bonus' chapter following Fanghe's recruitment of Joan, Virgil, and Minji WITH young Chrollo stalking around. You could skip it and understand the rest of the story, but it does add more backstory to the Fan Shi and gives a look into Chrollo's youth in Meteor City. Consider it a transition point from one problem to the next. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's left kudos! Thank you to the very excited guest and SalieriJay for the comments!   
> Thank you for reading!


	38. Meteor City: The Orphan Hunt

_Twenty Years Ago_

Under the scorching sun in a city of trash, a curiosity captured a young boy's attention.

Formerly, he had been wandering through what passed as streets, scrounging for whatever interesting item he came across to either barter or keep. Also, formerly, he had been speaking with another resident: an eccentric old man, unnamed to his knowledge, that adored useless baubles to the point of trading away valuables- or so he pretended. They had been in the middle of making a trade, too, which was a shame. The dead crow in Chrollo's hand threatened to collect flies as the old man ignored him in favor for a stranger. Chrollo knew better than to interrupt, though. He had watched the old man gut another for stealing one of his treasures- a silver locket, he thinks. He didn't want to cross the old man after just one lesson.

Anyway, he had wandered from his current interest: the stranger. The woman stood out from the piles of trash, both human and otherwise, as not belonging to the city. Stainless flowing clothes, pale dirt-less skin, and long unsnarled black hair, everything about her was too clean. Odd enough as she was, she also delicately held the handle of a large metal-plated box.

Like Chrollo, the old man's attention had immediately gone to the stranger when she had approached. Then the box. She had given them a pleasant smile- the type often reserved as a threat, not a greeting, in Meteor City. They spoke, voices too far away for Chrollo to hear without noticeably stepping closer. From their expressions alone, he learned.

The old man had been reasonably guarded at the beginning of the exchange. Reputable people did not visit Meteor City; the rare visitors were typically tied to mafia in some manner. She appeared confident even under the old man's critical stare, her smile never breaking. Then she said something that changed the old man's attitude. He became chatty, rambling in the way he so often did when excited about some trinket.

Just as quickly, the conversation ended.

She knelt, opening the box before passing the man a… Chrollo questioned his vision, fairly certain the woman had just given away a ripe apple untouched by bruises or insects and a cold drink in a dark bottle that immediately began to sweat in the heat.

While he ogled the bizarre nature of unheard-of luxuries, she closed the box. She walked towards him. His eyes shifted from the old man to look up at her.

The smile as she passed him, the way the air chilled and grew heavy, she exuded danger behind an unassuming mask. She wasn't someone he could challenge. The idea of stealing the case left his mind as fast as it appeared, replaced by something else.

Despite himself, he went to the old man's side, asking, "Who was that?"

Through the final hungry bites of apple, he said, "Fanghe Paijin. Human traffickers, I think." He tipped the bottle back, guzzling the rest, the smell alcoholic. He whistled through his missing teeth. "Pretty thing, wasn't she? About tore my head off when I thought of jumping her for that metal box." So even the old man backed down...

"She wanted information?" he asked, still too curious.

"Sharp boy! Looking for some kids to take with her." The old man's dry cackle turned to a croak before he coughed a dozen times. "I offered you up." Chrollo must have frowned because the old man cackled again. "Said she didn't want you, though. Wanted some weak runts not cut out for here. Told her to go see Half-face." The old man wheezed with laughter, although Chrollo had no idea who that was and failed to see the humor.

An odd request from a strange woman, though. A human trafficker surely didn't want such battered goods. In Meteor City, being weak equated to being dead or soon-dead. What good were dying children? Corpses? Organs? But with the amount of diseases and-

"Now, kiddo, what do you want?" The old man sat back down, waving his hand dismissively. "Reading lessons again? Take that to your mother first. I'm full."

Chrollo glanced at the dead crow in his hand, the creature alive with a flurry of flies. He shook it, broken neck flopping around as the flies scattered. The old man was lying about being full. Helping children and invalids in exchange for worthless knickknacks, turning away food, the eccentric old man… If he wasn't as strong as he was, his kindness would have gotten him killed years ago.

Chrollo wandered off.

* * *

**Half-Face Joan Arkwright**

Meteor City, in general, sucked. It stunk like the damn trash heap it was, food was scarce, and the people were varying degrees of nuts. Now, for someone not born in a garbage dump, the place sucked even more. Can't miss what you never had, but Joan had had a lot.

Before his face had been scorched off, and before he was dumped in this shithole, Joan Arkwright had it made. His father was a well-regarded bodyguard in Yorknew mafia circles, so much so that he married one of his client's daughters and climbed ranks. Even his relatives got in on this shit, making it rich. To say Joan lived a comfy life back in Yorknew might be a damn understatement!

Of course, working with the mafia had a price. Their cost came from the repetitive, ever-predictable feud between rival families vying for power. One "accidental" house fire later, his father, mother, and brother were crusty ash piles. Joan had the misfortune of surviving. Disfiguring third-degree burns on his right side made him a walking freak-show! He had half a face, right eye a squinty sliver under thick skin rough with scars and unnatural wrinkles. Forget having an ear on that side; didn't even have a chewed-up stump left to pretend he could hear out of. His mouth pulled up to a forced smile too- that sucked as much as not closing his eye fully, 'cause flies and shit just loved to crawl into his mouth.

His fucking relatives decided it was too much a bother to pay for reconstructive surgery. Hell with that, they said. Instead they dumped him in this dumpster of a city. Didn't want to take him out themselves. Thought he wouldn't live long here. Well, fuck that, because he'd been here for three years!

He'd survived all the bull this rathole threw at him! He slept in a makeshift tent wrapped in a bloodstained tarp-blanket! He ate rats, he ate flying rats, a couple of times he ate dead dogs rotting in the sun! He lived through throwing up his guts for weeks and countless other illnesses! He beat the faces of brats trying to take his shit to a bloody dead pulp! Lord of this pile of trash he was! If he wanted to stay in this pit, he was sure he could someday take over the whole junk-lot that was Meteor City!

"Shit!" He repeatedly cursed as he scrambled to pull his rat skewer off the fire before it went from overcooked to inedible. "Damn it," he mumbled, turning the stick around to see the damage his delusions of grandeur had caused. A bit charred, but still loosely food. He leaned back, sighing heavily.

Shit like that is how people ended up dead in this place. Always needed to be aware or some asshole might sneak up on you and take you out. Survival basics, damn it!

"I see why he called you half-face."

Joan sprung to his feet, dropping his meal to the ground. His hand found the jagged metal knife on his belt before his eyes met the voice's owner.

Then she waved. She fucking waved!

Joan stared at the woman, waiting for an attack that never came. The more he looked, the weirder she got. Non-resident. Had to be. Clothing too nice, the rest of her too clean and well-nourished… Joan almost cussed out loud when he noticed how she looked like a damn model. Not a single flaw in her skin. Definitely not some Meteor City bitch. Makeup didn't exist in this pile to his knowledge. Still, even with her standing a foot away from him, he didn't sense her. It was like he was looking at cardboard cut-out instead of a person. That creeped him out as much as the friendly smile on her face. It came off as dangerously faked.

"You are Joan, yes?" she asked politely when he kept gawking.

"Y-yeah." The expletives in his head at the hesitation barely stayed mental. Something about this chick made his knees want to knock. That said a lot considering the shit he'd seen here.

"Very good!" She swung a giant case to the side as she shifted her weight. Joan's attention drifted to the metal box. Weapons? Money? Drugs? A case like that, mafia loved to carry illegal things in them. God, what if it was body parts and he was next? "Oh, but I see I have ruined your meal. I do apologize. Would you like a replacement?"

She seemed sincere enough, setting off more alarm bells. Resident or mafia, cheerful tones like hers were filled with ulterior motives. "What do you got?" he demanded, hiding away nerves. Can't show weaknesses at a time like this. So he'd just be pissed he'd be eating garbage covered rat when she inevitably- His grip on the knife tightened. "What's in the case?"

"All sorts of things, really," she said absently as she set the box on the ground, unlatching it. "You see, I wasn't sure what people here would value. Food has been most popular, I'm afraid, so all I have left is a sandwich I planned to eat myself."

"What-" He had to swallow back drool as his mind went wild. "What kind of sandwich?" The last time he had actual bread- not the crap this city tried to pass as bread- was two years ago, and it had been molding. Actual meat, three years ago. The saliva ran freely, making him swallow again.

"Hmm." She grabbed a plastic-wrapped square, holding it up as if to examine it. "Turkey, was it? I didn't much care when I bought it. Is that-"

He reached for it, forgetting everything at the call of real food. She drew back, slapping his hand away as she 'tsked' him. He felt a bruise forming under the sting; she hit him hard. If he had kept going for it, he'd have a broken wrist…

"Now, that was quite rude," she admonished him, tone motherly instead of threatening. Then she smiled.

The second she handed over the sandwich, he dropped his crappy knife to the ground, hands tearing away plastic. Half the sandwich was shoved in his mouth by the time he noticed it was pleasantly cold. Lettuce, tomato, meat, cheese, _and_ fresh bread, he felt like he'd transcended to heaven. It was gone much too soon, leaving Joan to stare at the plastic at his feet.

"What do you want? Who are you?" The feast over and the woman still standing there, he came to his senses. He tore his eyes away from the taunting remains of his best-meal-in-years to glare at her properly. "Which asshole called me Half-face?" That was almost as bad as when they called him Jo; he hated stupid nicknames.

She giggled a few times, sitting on the now-closed case. She motioned for him to sit on the ground across from her. He didn't. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I was directed to you by a scrawny old man surrounded by piles of odds and ends." She pointed to her right, to the east. "About a fifteen-minute walk that way. Forgive me for not being more specific; I am unfamiliar with this lovely city." 

"You mean shithole? Ain't much of a city." He ignored her, taking time to silently curse that old man for pointing her towards him. He didn't need his goddamn help. "You're mafia, right? Which family?" 

"You are not from here either, then," she mused, a few sentences enough for her to generalize his past. "Paijin, although I am here for my own purposes. My name is Fanghe." She shifted, resting one leg over the other, neatly setting her hands on her lap. 

"Paijin, huh…" Joan searched his brain. The Paijin were traffickers, ones in Azia somewhere. "What sort of business you on that you're asking a teenager for help?" 

"I noticed an aspect of Meteor City culture in my short time here. The adults prey mainly on adults, with the exception of thieves, and children prey on other children, with the exception of the sickly or foolish. One of your age would be more helpful considering I am looking for children." 

Joan narrowed his eyes, wanting to pick his knife off of the ground, or grab the other tied to his leg. "What do you need kids for?" She may have said she wasn't on Paijin business, but a trafficker looking for children usually didn't end so well for the children. Hate it as he may, since he considered himself quite mature, he still fell into the 'child' category. It's not like he believed this Fanghe was telling the truth, either.

"I wish to help a few strays too weak for the pack. A weak wolf can be mended and trained into a deadly predator after all. In exchange for taking them off the streets where they were fated to die, I ask only for loyalty. I am not fond of the rest of the Paijin, you see, and need a group I can trust-."

"You're making _kids_ your bodyguards?" Joan interrupted, doubt in every word. Lady had to be nuts or desperate to be staking her trust in some runts from this shithole.

"Why yes, I suppose that would be one way to phrase it." She reached into her pants pocket, retrieving a plastic card. Joan's jaw about dropped. A Hunter License. "I see, you recognize it. I am a Hunter. Trust that I can raise an army of child warriors if that was my intent. No, rather, I wish for but a small group. Would this interest you?"

So, it had been a sales pitch. A convincing one. Joan glared at her bright smile, thinking. Trust this crazy bitch and get out of this shithole, or stay and scrape by until someone else offered to ship him off elsewhere? Right now, the crazy bitch was winning the debate. She'd probably kill him if he refused anyway. He gained nothing by dying like a dog in the trash. She was a Hunter too; he'd be a damn idiot if he hadn't heard the tales of what Hunters were capable of. If she actually trained him, then he'd be strong enough to run away and do his own shit, right?

"All right," he said after thinking over the pros and cons once more.

She clapped her hands together, a genuine smile on her face. "Thank you, dear Joan! I am already quite fond of you, you see." She chuckled when he raised his one remaining eyebrow, wondering what he did. "You seem a well-informed boy, Joan. Both in Meteor City and the outside world. That will help the others adjust to such a drastic change in environment."

"Others?" Did she already have some gathered?

"No worries, dear Joan. You are the first I have spoken with regarding this matter. In fact," she said, standing, brushing off her clean pants, "I will need your assistance finding others. You must know some desperate souls seeking to leave their beloved city behind. The strong or intelligent, I would prefer, but anyone will do."

"Yeah, sure." He scratched the back of his head. How quickly her menacing aura disappeared, replaced with cheer and excitement. He couldn't tell which was an act. "So, you want some desperate shits," he mumbled, trying to put his unease aside. Despite the place being a dump, the residents held a ridiculous sense of pride in it. "Yeah, she might want to." The girl with the massive infection. "She has to be desperate by now." She'd screwed over that entire gang of kids a while back too; must be kind of smart. "Don't know much about her, but I think she's what you're looking for."

"Then lead the way, dear Joan."

* * *

**Paperclips Minji**

She let herself slide down the sunbaked husk of a car, paint flaking off to scatter in the breeze. The shade was a welcome relief from the sun. Regrettably, the fever made her continue to sweat out what little water she had. Venturing from her shelter had become too dangerous. What water she had stored was quickly used in a poor effort to keep hydrated. Her last meal also collected flies where she'd retched it up.

Her condition had steadily worsened in the last week. She would not last much longer. Fighting the infection herself became impossible; even medication and professional amputation might not be enough.

She distracted herself with that thought.

Medicine. Medicine of any sort was a rarity here. What was found was used by the lucky finder or quickly traded for immediately-gratifying items like food. The rare delivery came at a steep price. Some of the elders hoarded it, their connections and status allowing them the privilege. Very few healers existed in the city, the residents' prevailing belief that if you couldn't heal your own wounds or had nothing useful to trade, then you deserved to die. It was better to die amongst the trash a proud person than a sniveling worm.

Medicine fascinated Minji. A myth, she first thought, hearing a woman describe what she had seen during some mafia-endorsed activity. Beings that could hold off death through manipulating the body's functions and structures, their use of various concoctions poisonous if taken in the incorrect dosage, and their assemblages of pointy objects for slicing through skin and bone, doctors were a wonderful combination of fantasy and horror. Watching a surgery would be thrilling! But, instead, she had to make do with dissecting vermin and the occasional cadaver. That did very little to fulfill her curiosity.

A twitch of her arm made her draw a sharp breath. Before she passed out from fever for the day, she needed to check. Peeling away the filthy cloth on her wrist let loose oozing pus. Her attempt to stitch-up the cut failed. Flies flocked to it, forcing her to re-cover it before she had another batch of maggots- the first had been helpful, eating dead flesh, but that would now be most of her arm. From fingertip to shoulder, pale white skin twisted with hues of purple and green as it presumably rotted. Her leg was the same, probably. It would take too much effort to bend down and unwrap the wound just to see a nauseating mosaic of concerning colors.

If she had happened upon a saw or something similar, she might have tried to amputate the limbs. Of course, with one usable arm, gaining the necessary leverage would be difficult. She might pass out from pain as well. Blood loss would be a problem, too. If she could have, she would have tied something tight around the limb before cutting it away, then she would have cauterized the flesh to stop the bleeding. That was right procedure, right?

She delicately felt over the left side of her face, fingers slipping under the bandage. Blood and pus, again. The cut on her cheek had spread its toxins much like the rest. She could no longer see from her left eye. The last time she glanced at a reflective surface it had been glassed over, a few maggots writhing in the corner. A matter of time, she supposed, until the infection reached her brain.

 _Which limb will kill me first_ , she wondered in morbid curiosity.

Had she expected this to be the result of her trickery, she wouldn't have gone forth with it. Befriending that gang of other orphans, living with them for a month to gain some semblance of trust, her plan had been simple and effective. She had stolen at least three months' worth of food and water, a variety of containers, a relatively new sweater, and two still-sharp pocketknives. She only had to kill three others to escape with it all. What a lovely shade of green they had become as they vomited out their guts. She wished she could read the skull-and-cross-bone label on that bottle…

A wonderful haul, too, considering the time she spent with them included being fed- scraps for a new member, of course, but food nonetheless. It had been a fantastic idea, until the few remaining kids came after her with a nail-covered baseball bat. Even after crushing them beneath a precariously balanced car, the damage had sealed her doom. Small cuts from the nails festered in the burning sun and blackened with disease carrying insects.

"Goddamn, it smells like something died over here! Maybe she already kicked the bucket!"

Her eye flew open, brain suddenly cleared of fever delirium. Male. Teenager. Slightly familiar voice. Two sets of footsteps from the back right of the car. No time to run in her condition. Minji sighed, leaning her pounding head back onto the car, accepting her death with as much grace as the next Meteor City resident; as in she fished a knife out of her pocket, hand quaking as she tried to grip the handle and raise her arm. Throwing it may distract them long enough for her to stand to face her demise.

The moment someone stepped into sight the knife sailed through the air. Minji's eye widened as the woman held the blade between two fingers, examining it before looking to her. She had caught it, swiped it from the air with time to spare. The boy rounded the corner. Half-face, Minji realized. Immediately her attention returned to the woman as she handed the knife to Half-face. The smile pulling at her lips, it made Minji shift in her spot despite the pain it caused.

"What is your name?" the woman asked pleasantly, plopping a metal case on the ground to sit primly. Foreigner. To courteous and clean to be living here. She leaned forward, wholly interested in the answer to a bland question. Half-face rested against the hood of the dilapidated car with a look of satisfaction.

"Minji," she rasped after a long silence.

"My name is Fanghe. It is nice to meet you, Minji." She smiled again, the expression morphing from friendly to devious. "And may I ask, how close are you to dying?"

She refused to answer.

"From the way she smells, a few minutes." Half-face shriveled his deformed nose at her. Did he not understand that infections reeked of death? She had smelled like this for days and still lived.

"Now, Joan, do not be rude," Fanghe chided lightly, eyes never leaving Minji. "You have dressed your wounds quite well, considering what was available to you. Unfortunately, that does not appear to have been enough. How did you get infected, dear Minji? A scrape?"

"Baseball bat with nails," _Joan_ \- Half-face was a much more suitable name- answered for her. "Saw some kids chasing after her, screaming at her for stealing from them. Like I told you, she crushed them under a car somehow. Smelled like corpse by my place for days until scavengers picked them over."

"I see." Fanghe leaned back, looking to the sky for a stretch of unnerving silence. Joan began fiddling with the knife, spinning it in his hands as he kept an eye on the woman- he felt wary of her despite accompanying her, then. "Minji, I do not have much to offer you immediately. A few painkillers, but nothing for the infection. I'm afraid;" her eyes returned to Minji, voice losing the fake pleasantness, "that you would need a number of surgeries to stop the progression of that infection. Your left arm and leg are lost causes. If your face resembles them, well, you will be left horrifically deformed. Does the slim chance of survival with a mutilated body even interest you? I would be able to obtain the most advanced prostheses, but, if you have no will to live such a life, then there would be no point. If your pride demands you die here, I will not interfere."

Surgery? Prostheses? Surely that would cost thousands of times the worth of her body. Strangers here were typically mafia. Odds were this woman was as well, so why invest so heavily in a near corpse? "What do you want?"

"If you come with me, I'm offering to save you."

"She's offering to get you out of this shithole," Joan added. Minji glared at him for insulting the city. As true as the statement may be, it was home. "You'll be a pile of mush by next week. You'd think you'd just say yes."

"I need a group of loyal followers," Fanghe said once Joan noticed her eerie smile at his interruption. "In order to obtain that, I am willing to give you nearly anything you desire. Do you have something you desire, Minji? Besides life?"

"Can I watch the surgery?" Oh, how badly she wanted to see the methods of these _doctors_. She wanted to watch as they attempted what she considered impossible. And, truly, what did she have to lose? As Half-face so kindly pointed out, she would die- although, she bet sooner than next week.

"You want to watch them chop off your arm and leg? Cut away the decaying flesh of your face?" Fanghe asked, breaking her smile to look at Minji with wonder instead of the confusion she expected. "Curious thing, aren't you? I doubt they will operate with you awake, but I could have it recorded for you to watch later. Are you interested in the gore or the process?"

"Process." A lie. She didn't mind the gore.

"Then, Minji, what if I told you I could have you trained as a doctor?"

* * *

**Stink-Bug Virgil**

Legs and feelers tickling skin, Virgil swatted a bug from his cheek before it made it to his mouth or eyes. Stupid things loved to gather there. He wrinkled his nose, trying to pick out rotting flesh from stink bugs. In his ears, he could hear the familiar hum of nearby flesh wasps.

A hunk of carrion with a few eggs, that's all he needed. The reek of stink bugs and being extra careful not to bother the wasps was usually enough for him to sneak away with his new favorite weapon. When the eggs threatened to hatch in a couple of days, he'd use the rotting meat as bait, hopefully get the timing just right. A dozen or more stings to bring down an animal, and then a fire to cook the meat and break down the venom; he had this down. Last time he got a starved dog. The time before, a vulture.

He'd survive this place. The filth, the bugs, the struggle, he'd survive to someday escape it.

The buzz louder, dead flesh writhing with monstrous wasps, Virgil crouched. He squinted, and squinted some more, trying to figure out what sort of corpse the swarm found. Best to find something easily removed than linger too long. One sting was horrifying and painful and he never wanted to do that again.

He edged closer.

"That's him!"

A shout. Hell broke loose. Virgil snapped his head to the side before freezing. The hum of angered wasps failed to overpower the "Shit!" the same boy screamed. The boy shoved the other kid as he barreled away. The downed kid tried and failed to stand.

The buzzing in his ears grew louder, his heart pounding louder. A wasp separated from the group, a flying blob zipping towards him. He couldn't outrun them. He couldn't see the ground, he'd trip over debris, and he'd be stung by the whole swarm until he became their next nest and meal. He froze, now out of fear instead of strategy.

A flash. Silence. Virgil's shaking legs gave out, and he landed in front of knife-impaled wasp. The sudden loss of wingbeats and buzzing… He looked up. In under a second, the whole swarm… With reverent fear, he stared at a third figure clad in black.

"How the fuck did you do that?" the boy yelled, jogging back to the figure's side. "I wanna do that!"

"I didn't see her move," the other kid mumbled, finally forcing herself back to her feet.

The figure approached, steps jolting his heart to his throat. The confident walk of a predator, the display of power, the air seemed to chill as the woman advanced. She crouched, eyes level to his, close enough that he could see brown irises bright with curiosity.

"Those insects, do you know what they were?"

The question made him blink. She wasn't from here. She attacked them without knowing, without caring. Who…?

"They're called-"

"Joan, be quiet, please." The boy snapped his mouth closed at a polite order, the woman's attention never leaving Virgil. "I assume, whatever they may have been, that they are dangerous. Let me ask something else: why were you approaching them?"

"I told you! He throws hunks of rotting-"

"Joan," she said again, a glance over her shoulder driving her point home.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, remembering the other boy now. He thought the screaming had been familiar. This was the idiot that had stepped on Virgil as he slept and freaked out when his stink bugs scattered to coat him in putrid spray. He was also the same idiot that had tried to poke at one of Virgil's rotting meat traps. And the same idiot that had barfed his guts out on Virgil's feet after an attempt to eat putrid meat meant as bait.

"The young wasps are good at killing stupid things," he grumbled, glaring at Joan's blurry form. "They don't fly for a few days after hatching, but their venom still works."

"Interesting." The woman leaned closer, eyes flickering about like she was analyzing him. "The stink bugs cover up your scent, allowing you near. Cutting away carrion without disturbing these rather large wasps, that is quite bold of you." He nodded absently, unsure of what to do with her praise. "This is a clever method of obtaining food given of your poor vision." She smiled, making him shift uncomfortably. "May I know your name? Mine is Fanghe."

When she held out her hand, he almost laughed. Handshakes were for fancy business people, mob bosses, and the elders. Not a kid covered in bugs and garbage. And names! Names meant about as much as the trash surrounding him. "Virgil." He was just another piece of trash that would never leave-

"Virgil, would you be interested in leaving this place?"

* * *

Chrollo stood in place.

On one hand, he was disappointed that he had been caught trailing the odd woman and her collection of ragged teens. On the other… The pin-prick of needles in skin, the heaviness choking the air, the weight of something unseen pressing down on him, he was absolutely fascinated. The closer the woman came, the more tangible her strength felt, and Chrollo could be too curious for his own good sometimes. Whatever this was, he wanted to understand it. He wanted to possess it. His eyes were round with possibilities.

Uncomfortable, but not overwhelming, the moment she crouched in front of him to meet his eyes, the aura surrounding her stabbed him like a million knife tips, something in him screaming to run. Unfortunately for her, his mind overruled the urge.

"How long have you been trailing me?" she asked sweetly, hiding any irritation or concern. The question, she already knew the answer.

"Since you met with the old man." A lie. He had only recently found her again after a painstaking search. He couldn't help himself. When he wanted something, he took it. He would never have anything if he didn't.

She smiled knowingly, placing a hand on the top of his head. The weight of it felt crushing even when she made no effort to press down. He looked death in the face without flinching. Her face became cemented in his mind. "You are the exact opposite of what I am looking for. I also do not appreciate being followed, nor being lied to." She patted his head before standing. The air cleared, the pressure disappearing, the phantom sting on his skin fading. It was something controlled. Had to be. "However, I am in a forgiving mood today. I suggest you learn to behave, or your life will be cut short by someone less kind than I." She turned, walking away with the knowledge he wanted.

"What sort of power was that?"

She dead-stopped, a laugh under her breath as she glanced over her shoulder. "Observant, aren't you?" Softly, words kept between them alone, she said, "A shame that you would only become a problem if I brought you with me. I might have answered your question, if that were not the case." Broken eye contact, amusement dead in her tone, a knife spilling from her sleeve, the truth came forth. "Following us is no longer without consequence. Be glad Virgil noticed you before I acted."

Chrollo took a slow step back. He understood his chances were poor, and he had no reason to die over a phantom feeling. She walked towards her group while he stayed in place, his eyes narrowed with a slight pout. He might understand, but he still wanted it.

As they disappeared from sight, he walked the opposite direction, curiosity still burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a bonus/transition chapter, but I decided to keep it within the main story (even if I'm considering doing a little offshoot collection of side stories like this). Actually, the first section with Chrollo, then Minji and Joan's sections, were among the first things written for this _entire_ story. Regardless, I hope the little snippet of Chrollo and the Fan Shi backstories were entertaining.


	39. Separation: Anxiety

_Early January_

Hearts plastered to every surface, the giant pink heart chiming love over the city, Aiai was an abomination. An entertaining abomination to take away some of the boredom, but still an abomination. The abundance of hearts might only be overshadowed by the sheer number of tropes the NPCs followed.

Sometimes as simple as a klutzy, but remarkably beautiful or cute, woman tripping into your arms and falling in love on sight- blushes and stuttering and all. Hisoka found that hilarious, given his first impression usually drew questions, not adoration- unless you were Lan, of course.

The more involved quests were saturated in sappy romance sequences of sunlit picnics, candlelit dinners, and moonlit walks. Those were dreadfully boring; NPCs only had so many lines and programmed reactions to give. They could never properly react to him. Now Lan, she always reacted, even when she oh so desperately didn't want to.

And, finally, a cliched character type he found the most amusement in, the tsundere. The city happened to be filled to the brim with them. Angrily yelling over nothing while blushing, getting flustered in accidentally compromising positions before slapping him and calling him stupid or telling him to shut up, the declarations of hate instead of love…

These romantic clichés, Lan didn't really like them, right? Actually, she could like this nonsense. It was the whole-heartedly believing in it that would be an issue. She had her moments of idiocy, but he thought her smarter than believing this lovey-dovey stuff. Especially when the declarations of love came from the lips of liars.

He shoved the NPC he was playing with aside.

He had done the same thing with his Lan, except he shoved her right into Chrollo's waiting arms. He pouted to himself, wandering sickeningly lovely streets alone. Realizing that annoyed him. Not just because of the tantalizingly repulsive image of them together, either, because he could always find a way to worm his way into the middle of those fantasies. It was because Chrollo no longer seemed to see this as just a petty revenge game. He enjoyed Lan, and every possible reason why was troublesome.

That man had issues. Don't get Hisoka wrong, he had his own, but Chrollo's were a different breed. He wouldn't pretend to understand him. Joining his little cult had just provided a bit of, shall he say, insight into the madness.

Chrollo cared about the Spiders. (Well, technically _the_ Spider. The ideal, not the individuals.) The rules stressing the Spider's survival over his, how personally he took losses, he treated the Spiders as an extension of himself. He collected odd personalities, assembled them for his presumed use. Part of the reason Hisoka got away with as much as he did was because Chrollo found him entertaining and his motives unique. His attention on Lan, Chrollo found an aspect of her he wanted to possess. Incorporating her into his little experiment for observation is exactly what he did with things he liked.

Hisoka didn't want that. It certainly had _nothing_ to do with his intention to crush Chrollo in an orgasmic battle, that he may have to kill the Spiders to provoke him into fighting, and that Lan may complicate that a touch. It's not that he couldn't kill her, because he could, and it's not that he liked her alive or anything, but… And now he was the tsundere.

Fine. He had a "soft" spot for his dear fledgling. Her life was his until death do they part- and he promised to be the death of her. Before watching her crumple at his feet in utter desolation, he wanted her on her knees for a different kind of pleasure. Or maybe not. He might just be jealous that Lan didn't sleep with him. Though he also understood how enticing Chrollo was, and, given the opportunity, he'd fuck him too. But Lan, his sweet little Lan, was probably more interested in monogamy- or being with anyone but him- than a casual fling ending in a death match. In any case, those delectable fruits made it a competition, and he didn't lose. Lan joining the Spider may as well be a wedding ring on her finger, and a definite loss on his part.

Did he mention he was bored? He had to be to be on this tired subject again. One might think this is all he ever thought about if his life was displayed in convenient snippets.

Also, all this sort of hinged on Lan not breaking over the whole Fan Shi affair. Because the moment you realize you're all alone, that no one can save you but yourself, that is _the_ moment to make or break a person. Control was earned solely through power. Self-efficient power. Nothing else. With this valuable life lesson learned, she would be so much stronger… _if_ she actually came out of it. She could be so concerningly sweet, reality might just crush her precious ego.

She wasn't completely like him. Teaching her as he had learned had backfired. He already failed to crush her naïve sense of trust, but at least that was just directed towards him. Her reality destroying her spirit would be the end of the potential he coveted.

An absent shuffle of his cards, he drew one. Seven of spades. And another. Seven of diamonds. He didn't believe in fortune telling. Or fate. Just the chaos of unscripted reality- that he bent to his will. He drew that final card. Seven of hearts. Decisions. Of course, Lan, his indecisive Queen of Hearts, would still be deciding her path. He had time to steer her in the right direction. Plenty, considering his fledgling fled from her troubles as surely as fear freezing her.

Perhaps he should try having a heart-to-heart with her before she made a dreadfully wrong decision.

* * *

Chrollo rearranged Lanfen's stuffed closet in hopes of accommodating a final… addition. Temporary addition, of course, but in order to stash his recent acquisitions he needed to shove aside a dozen coats, an alarming number of vests, some frilly dresses he couldn't imagine Lanfen ever wearing, and some rather risqué dresses he couldn't help but imagine her wearing. He might have slid a painting or two under her bed if she didn't keep countless shoes there. So, instead, he cleared enough space there for a jewel-encrusted carving of, ironically, a _Bai Ze_.

In truth, he had been on a bit of a spree. Anchi, the Troupe didn't often visit, and the Bai Ze had a grand collection to pursue and purloin. Lanfen's house seemed ideal for storage until he could sell everything.

He closed the closet door before passing her bookshelf, glancing at the titles briefly. He had already read a number from her eclectic collection the week following the Fan Shi's defeat. He had to do something while she sat in silence, her aunt not particularly good company. (He was surprised she didn't aim one of three well-hidden pistols at him, honestly. His reputation and Lanfen's fondness for him seemed to keep her at bay. Lanfen had adopted quite a few eccentricities from her, such as making demands with hands shaking with nerves.)

He grabbed the first volume of a manga series, lazily falling onto Lanfen's bed.

They had spoken only a few times since her departure. Mostly through text, although she did call him. Once.

A demand more than a request, she had asked him about Nen exorcism. He thought she may want to have Fanghe's curse removed. (It did serve as a constant reminder of her pointless suffering for the petty revenge of the dead. He assumed she hadn't gotten over that already, given her own vengeful bitterness. His dear Lanfen could hold due grudges.) He made sure to mention Nen after death would be nightmarish, if wholly impossible, to remove. Her pause, he could almost hear the scowl in it. Her response of, "I don't want to feel pain." may as well have been her telling him not to patronize her. If she had wanted to use it against the surviving Fan Shi, well, she needn't worry. He had plans for them. Or, perhaps, she simply wanted some warning before Hisoka reappeared with his exorcist. In that case, she need only be mildly concerned.

Their conversations otherwise had been pleasant enough.

He told her of his misadventure following her abduction. Lanfen refused to admit the old woman-who she referred to simply as Granny, the caretaker of her precious foxes- had mentioned him, instead adamant the foxes told her. She answered his call just so she could stifle giggles at his misfortune.

She would never forgive his debt to her. Or she was broke and would really like him to pay her back immediately. Sending a smile in response earned him a back and forth in an increasingly bizarre conversation of emojis. When the amusement faded he wired her half the amount he had stolen. She sent, _"If you want to see me again, you can. You don't need to hold my money hostage."_ She could be so eloquent- but she saw through him quickly.

He smiled slightly, still finding Lanfen's contradiction-filled version of a goodbye amusing- if also a bit cute because she so quickly failed to ignore him. Despite their limited contact, he was confident she would eventually fall into his will. She was helplessly tangled in his web already.

Though, he certainly wouldn't mind reminding her how she enjoyed him.

* * *

She wished that girl would pick up her damn phone more often.

Meiling fiddled with her keys, happy to be home to relax after a trip to Yorknew to escape a too quiet house, but also back at her too quiet house. Lanfen, just walking out without even a goodbye after… After everything. The Fan Shi's pursuit, the fake item, the horrific injuries, the relying on a manipulative criminal bastard to save her, Meiling worried. She worried so much, and Lanfen just ran off to do who-knows-what while dodging phone calls. The select few times she had picked up she avoided answering with much more than the lie, "I'm fine." She most definitely w-

Her suitcase hit the floor with a resounding . _THUD!_

She stared. She stared with the offence of a homeowner catching an intruder sitting on her couch, admiring her expensive vase. He didn't even have the decency to pretend to be guilty. Nope. Chrollo Lucilfer sat in her living room, acting like he owned the place. The fact it smelled like he had cooked-and burned- something somehow insulted her more.

For a moment, she forgot.

"What are _you_ doing in _my_ house?" The accusation flew out before it registered that telling off the leader of the Phantom Troupe wasn't in her best interests. It probably wasn't in anyone's best interests. She still couldn't believe that Lanfen had just left him here, unattended and dangerous, last time, and now he was showing up on his own- because Lanfen _always_ had her murder of crows surrounding the house.

Void eyes still on the vase in his hands, voice calm and unmoved and smooth and no wonder Lanfen fell for this bastard's charms, he said, "I needed somewhere to stay. Lanfen gave the impression I was welcome."

She swallowed her words when those eyes flickered to her. Fine. She doubted that, but fine. Meiling's nerves found her in the stiffness in her shoulders, the sudden dryness of her mouth. If not arguing over that invitation, then another. One that knotted her stomach with revulsion and sorrow.

"Lanfen isn't joining the Phantom Troupe."

Silence hung in the air like a guillotine. Meiling froze, held her breath, waited for death to find her. Unlike Lanfen, she understood that he likely held her at the same level as a fly: a nuisance easily removed. Demanding anything from him was laughable. But she would. If it ended up being the death of her then-

A quirk of his lips startled her a step backward. "That's not our decision to make," he said, setting aside the vase before rising. "You two are alike, aren't you?" His shift in tone, how his eyes widened with curiosity at that small connection the two shared like a lovestruck fool clinging to every detail learned of about his lover… Bastard. He might have Lanfen convinced with this cruel act, but Meiling, oh, she would never be convinced that he even remotely cared about Lanfen. It tore at her heart that Lanfen would settle for the fake love of this psychopath. The poor girl could be just like her mother in the worst of ways at times.

She didn't dignify him with a response. Too smart to trick with her pathetic scheme, she lost before opening her mouth. Meiling knew that if she ended up dead in this house, Lanfen would immediately blame Chrollo. She trusted the man enough to bring him here. Betraying that trust would fast track their 'relationship' to ruin.

Meiling hated this guy. Hated him more than Fanghe, honestly. He was the living monster terrorizing her daughter- because, really, she was her child. A monster that committed heinous massacres for trinkets. A monster that then dared place his murderous hands all over Lanfen, doing who-knows-what to manipulate and coerce her into becoming something wholly abhorrent. Thinking about it made her stomach churn.

Especially because she knew Lanfen was considering joining.

She picked up her suitcase and left her own house. Not only did she not want to deal with that demon, she had a nagging suspicion that if he couldn't directly kill her, he might try something indirect. Isolating Lanfen would only make it easier for him to snatch her up and devour her whole.

Back in her car and a block away from the house, she did the unthinkable. She took out her cellphone, mashing the frustrating little keys until she had a message typed and sent. Lanfen would be knowing that the bastard was at the house and that if _anything_ happened to Meiling, it was him. The fact Lanfen responded to a text message faster than any phone call made Meiling heave a heavy sigh. That, and Lanfen only sent a blasé "Okay"'

Meiling felt cornered. She thought that the fall of the Fan Shi would be a weight off her mind, that they could finally live with some semblance of peace, but now… She felt like she was helplessly watching Lanfen find herself an early death.

* * *

"That's it!" Knuckle threw up his hands, taking a step back. Sweat poured down his face. Humidity stifling, afternoon sun scorching, just another day in the tropics. Lanfen glared at him, her hair adhered to her face, her clothes soaked through with just as much sweat. "We're done for today."

Her frown only deepened. "I'm not tired." A hand on her hip and the attitude behind her flat-out lie made his brow twitch.

He pointed at her, shouting, "Like hell you aren't tired!" He was _exhausted_ , and he wasn't the one injured.

Her arm, he was amazed it worked as well as it did because the injuries to it… Whatever had happened with the Fan Shi had left her arm mangled, severed, and slashed into pieces to be reassembled. It was horrific. The first time he saw it he didn't even have words, just a pit in his stomach, because he let her leave the aquarium without them. He knew there were Nen healers out there, but, seriously, whoever fixed her arm had to the best of the best. And, even then, he'd been forced to watch her struggle against it to train. Her arm would sporadically give out. Her hand would tremble, sometimes jerk like she got electrocuted. She had to be in excruciating pain- it sure hurt him to look at.

When he agreed to train with her, he didn't agree to _this_. She wanted him to beat her face in, no breaks allowed.

"No." He was putting his foot down. He'd been dancing around telling her no because she seemed super frustrated, but this was it. He wouldn't be responsible for her working herself until she crashed and burned. "We both need to rest."

Her expression blanked. "If you need a break, fine." The subtle insult in a flat tone… he might have pummeled her if that wasn't exactly what she wanted. Deflecting due concern and demanding her way, she could be so difficult sometimes. No wonder Morel made the 'complaints and back-talk result in being thrown from the boat to swim for hours on end' rule. She turned on her heel, adding, "I can train by myself."

"Pushing yourself too far isn't going to make that injury go away!"

She stopped. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. A spasm in her right hand made her hide it from view. It might be a hard truth, but he had to say something. He didn't want her hurting herself more. And he didn't want her to run off to continue on her own, either.

"Take a break," he tried again, softer this time. She didn't even glance over her shoulder at him. "Please? We can see the saber-panther kittens," Knuckle added, trying his best to disarm the time bomb in front of him. Fluffy animals always improved her mood.

"If…" She swallowed down the dip in her voice. "If you're not going to help me, then-"

"I know you're frustrated, damn it!" Whatever happened left her feeling weak, and now she was overcompensating. It would take an absolute numbskull to miss that! Why she kept pretending otherwise, he didn't understand that. They were friends. He wanted to help.

"You don't know anything!"

"Because you won't tell me anything!" Knuckle snapped back with instant regret. Her eyes went to the ground as she bit her lip, preventing herself from spouting out more. As volatile as she could be, she tried to hide it when around them. He was surprised that she showed up without the wig and makeup, but those were still just superficial physical traits. "Look, I'm sorry. I-"

"I'm leaving."

"Lanfen!" A step in her direction, and she paused. He stopped dead. His lungs tight, the humid air grew suffocating with her aura. The feral glare finished freezing him place- with more confusion and concern than fear. By the time he snapped out of it, she bolted into the trees. Her presence faded with Zetsu. "Damn it!" he yelled, letting himself fall to the ground to sit, his fist slamming into the dirt to leave an imprint.

Her aura always had an uncomfortable edge, but… It felt darker. Sinister, if he were being honest with himself. More than the injury, something horrible had happened with the Fan Shi.

Not knowing how to help was beyond frustrating.

* * *

Nemmi crowed in her ear, shuffling on her shoulder with agitation. _Her_ agitation.

She continued fiddling with her sleeve, an accusatory look sent at her arm. Another twitch in her hand and she bit her lip. She dropped her arm back to her side to stare forward in a pathetic attempt to ignore it. Nemmi clicked his beak, ruffling his feathers.

All the time passed, the effort to re-strengthen it and- And it still wasn't fully healed! She hated it.

Hated it almost as much as her own behavior. Taking her frustration out on Knuckle like she had after he'd been nice enough to train with her, he didn't deserve that. He was too… good. Like a puppy. That she stomped on. He certainly looked like a dejected puppy when she yelled at him and left two days ago.

But there was also only so much training she could do with him. She didn't want to hurt him. With her Nen, that was asking the impossible. At most she could continue working on enhancement with him. But, again, she could also only do so much training alone. If Hisoka wasn't in Greed Island, and Chrollo Nen-less, and his friends not quite so intimidating, then maybe…

Nemmi shuffled closer, little chirps of concern making a sad smile pull at her lips.

"It'll be fine," she reassured him. Reassured herself. "This is our best option." Their only option.

Another blind corner, and she came to a door. Pausing a moment, she shed distracting thoughts to favor her goal. A blink and bloodlust bloodied the air. Auras on the other side of the door sparked to life. Nothing much, certainly no where near the level of opponents she would have to face, but enough for experimentation. Nemmi shrieked as wood splintered, a single kick forcing the door open.

Her test subjects stared back at her with varying offence. Drug smugglers. Low ranking blacklist targets, a few of the dozen listed for a worsening drug problem, they had unfortunately caught her desperate attention. Because they were common. Quantity over quality, for now.

Their shouts were quickly lost beneath the roar of aura surrounding her.

* * *

She nudged aside a corpse, trying to avoid more blood on her shoes if she could. Arri and Nemmi were just so messy. Having multiple targets in an enclosed space made the mess that much worse. And it might already be time to switch from quantity to quality because she barely got to test a damn thing with how fast they died. It's like they learned Nen last week. They were that bad.

A poke through the remains of a pocket and she found a partial wallet. "Great," she mumbled, pulling out half of an ID, "this is just so helpful." She didn't want to discuss the wad of shredded cash. Nemmi cackled at her misfortune like he didn't help cause it.

Her focus on testing her Nen on disposable of targets made her overlook the fact she would like to get paid for taking out the trash. Some of their faces were… damaged, to say the least. All of them were in parts- even the _enhancer_ sucked at enhancement. Hauling around any of that didn't thrill her. Any other forms of identification would be rejected because they were easy to fake or steal without actually killing the targets. _Half_ of an ID did even less for her.

"Hey, it's you!"

Lan whipped around, aura swelling as she prepared to remove a potential threat. The young man dramatically skidded to a stop, catching himself on the doorframe as he tripped. He tensed, left Zetsu, his Nen reacting to protect him from a surge of bloodlust.

"Woah there," he said with an awkward laugh, holding up his hands, "we're on the same side, I swear." His tone didn't match his expression. The nerves in his voice failed to reach further. That, and his face pissed her off for some reason. So did his voice. _Especially_ his voice. "Hey," he called over his shoulder, another set of footsteps keeping her tense, "Sensei, someone beat us here!"

She shifted her weight, cornered as much as the smugglers had been. The young man reluctantly stepped into the room, tiptoeing like he was trying not to offend her- or step on stray piles of gore. While she tried to restrain bloodlust, she kept her aura a present threat- just as the young man did. Covered in blood, surrounded by dismembered bodies, even if they were criminals, the overkill didn't leave a good impression. She couldn't decide if it was better or worse that she had on her Hunter disguise. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled as another man finally traipsed into her crime scene. Older, with graying black hair pulled from his face and wrinkles creasing his brow, he had the look of a teacher. His eyes uncomfortably traveled the room, lingering on the bodies, narrowing severely when he looked to her. Without a word, he got across sheer disapproval. Definitely a teacher.

"Are you a Blacklist Hunter?" Her eyes flickered back to the younger man, his voice grating on her delicate nerves. He didn't seem difficult to remove, but the other… "I thought for sure you'd be a Poacher Hunter or something. Can't believe I got that wrong!" The temperature plummeting with reignited bloodlust, it only made him laugh sheepishly. She looked again, trying to place him since he pretended to know her. Brown hair. Dark eyes. Skin neither light or dark. Average in every regard. Forgettable in every way. Nothing, absolutely nothing about him stood out. Except maybe how his voice buzzed in her ear like a fly, and how she adored flies. He sulked, still bothering to ask, "You really don't remember me?"

"No." Maybe. She didn't know. She didn't really care, honestly. She cared about being cornered, pinned down by the instructor's glare. Wordless, but she understood: he didn't like her one bit. Considering the circumstances, she was probably dealing with someone with morals that extended to even the lowest level of scum. "Murder is murder" logic she pretended she didn't understand- when, in truth, she just didn't care much. While less liable to, you know, kill her- unless he also abided "the death of one to save many"- that meant one of the two likely had an ability to disable or incapacitate opponents.

Nemmi hopped from her shoulder, landing behind her as she shuffled in mock- or real- discomfort to cover any noise. Best to take them out before they had the chance to use something like that.

She eternally loathed that her brain worked better against Hunters than actual threats like the Fan Shi and Hisoka.

Not one to lose the spotlight, the young man pouted, asking, "You passed the 286th Hunter Exam, right?"

"I did." Her eyes went to him again, finally recalling him. Exam boy. No wonder his voice buzzing in her ear annoyed the hell out of her. He never shut up from the final phase through orientation.

"See, you _do_ remember." His misplaced cheer made her want to slap him. Couldn't he read a room? One wrong move and his teacher would be at her throat. (Though he unhelpfully kept his aura to the minimum required to ignore her bloodlust. She couldn't gauge her odds as accurately as she'd like.) "Your name was, let's see, Lanfen?" Silence without correction, it took too long for him to accept that as an answer. "Remember mine?" He asked way too many damn questions with obvious responses. "Roeis. And this is my sensei, Isma."

Lan couldn't be bothered with pleasantries. Nemmi tapped her ankle in agreeance. "As you can see, I've taken care of them. There's no point in sticking around." A half-step to drive that point home-

 _And_ he just kept talking. "So, you are a Blacklist Hunter. Right? Sensei is one." His sensei had the look of an uncorruptable seeker of justice; no eccentric styling, no flourishing speeches, just practical and serious. Funny how one of the few non-hypocrites in the association made themselves her problem. Otherwise, maybe, just maybe, she would have respected him. "I'm just learning how to track people, honestly, because I want to be more of a Lost Hunter. Or a Crime Hunter," Roeis continued. "Did it take you long to decide?"

She took a deep breath before she accidentally added him to the bloodbath.

"Anyway, I guess you're right. No point in sticking around when everyone's dead. Can't arrest a corpse." Roeis' eyes traveled the room, a hiccup in his nonstop rambling showing disapproval. "You know you can't claim bounties with their faces torn apart, right?"

"I realize that." Another step, her hand on her hip and her eyes narrowed, she would be leaving. If she had to fight them to do so, she would. As long as she eliminated both, there would be no witnesses to report the murder of fellow Hunters. Realistically, she should kill them. The violence in her attacks, even against smugglers, could tarnish her name. Enough of a stir and… She fiddled with her sleeve. Too much risk. A connection to the Phantom Troupe may end her Hunter career and earn her a spot on the bounty list with them. She wasn't ready to give it up yet. Not when she hadn't decided.

"Do you want to go on a date?"

"What?" Voice sharp to cover surprise, her face scrunched with pure disgust and confusion. For a solid second, she struggled to decide if she misheard or misunderstood. "No," she settled on when Roeis kept staring at her. "Why would you even ask that?" She didn't want to know. _"Inappropriate timing, can't you read the atmosphere at all? Absolute annoying idiot,"_ she mumbled under her breath, resorting to Anchian because she couldn't properly express her disgust otherwise. Nemmi snapped his beak to punctuate her revulsion.

"Huh? Is it that weird to ask?" He laughed it off, itching blush-darkened cheeks. "You're reasonably attractive and seem really interesting, so getting to know you would probably be fun, and… I should shut up." Yes. Yes, he should. "Anyway," Roeis said, lazily closing the gap between them, stepping over a severed arm on his way, "it was nice seeing you again, but you seem ready to leave." He raised a hand, Lan tense, and-

"Roeis," his sensei interrupted, authority silencing silence. Roeis dropped his arm, looking over his shoulder with a sigh. A stern warning, almost, but Isma continued with an equally strong, "We should be on our way as well." For a warm brown, his eyes were piercing when directed at her. "We must work to find these smugglers' associates before this drug addicts more."

Understood as "this idiot made our job more difficult" with an irritating amount of condescending disapproval for her methods, Lan held back comments. She was a bad person. Even if she sometimes fretted over the fact while seeking approval from Auntie or Knuckle, she understood that she was inherently not, nor would she ever be, a good person. People on the complete opposite side of the moral spectrum tended to grate on her nerves with their accompanying righteous, self-important, superiority-filled, attitudes. Might stem from a general resentment of authority- and anyone that remotely reminded her of her father.

"Right. We do have other things to do," Roeis agreed, stepping to the side to allow Lan a path to the door. "Nice seeing you again, Lanfen." His hands in his pockets, some of his cheer disappeared. "If you go after any more bounties related to the D2 drug, please leave one alive for the Association to interrogate. The time saved will ultimately save lives. Innocent lives. I think you understand that it is-" he paused, distinct look of dissatisfaction eliminating his former go-lucky tone. "That it _should_ be our goal as Hunters to protect innocent lives from senseless violence."

That came as a slap to the face. She failed to respond, tongue twisted in her mouth with a jumble of hypocritical comments. He remembered her from the exam. He remembered her reaction to the final phase. His phrasing, in a small way, managed to appeal to her, the monster that callously eviscerated several people.

"Sure," she forced out, now planning to avoid anything connected to this drug just avoid them as well. The alarm ringing in the background of her thoughts, these two were dangerous. Perhaps not to her life, but in the very least to her reputation.

And they were annoying.

She didn't listen to further pleasantries, rushing from the room, Nemmi following in her wake in case her escape route turned into a trap. Talons on her shoulder, the rundown building already a distance behind her, Lan fidgeted with her sleeve. She felt like she dodged a knife to the face only to have another aimed at her defenseless back. It might be just paranoia. She hoped it was paranoia. But exam boy, he had her so distracted by irritating cheer and pointless babbling that he had to be up to something in the background.

"I know," she mumbled as Nemmi bobbed his head. With her bloodlust hanging over the room, he had his Nen present the entire exchange. It was unlikely he had succeeded in, say, attaching some sort of beacon onto her. Just shy of two years of Nen training, he wouldn't be able to use an ability without a noticeable fluctuation in his Nen. His instructor had his aura visible as well, so he hadn't been using In to hide an attack or…

She shook her head, clearing what would become an endless spiral of thoughts. Realistically, this was a chance meeting that garnered some minor irritation from two idealistic Hunters. What could they do? Chastise her? Make a few more idealistic people dislike her? They didn't know she killed a few other Hunters. They didn't know she was associated with the Phantom Troupe. They couldn't do anything to her.

So, why? Why did this make her so nervous? Paranoia and instinct were too difficult to separate sometimes.

* * *

Smoke rose in cold night air, the noise of a busy bar a drone in the background. He watched ashes fall to the ground, cigarette burning itself out as he waited.

September. September had been the start of this.

A _BANG!_ and drunken laughter erupted into shouts. More gunfire, a shoot-out began just like any other day. Just another power struggle, rival families tearing into each other like feral mongrels. September. The Yorknew Auction. The assassination of the Ten Dons left a vacuum, every family trying to fill the vacancy or just grab power were dismantling the organized in organized crime.

Business had never been better for a hitman.

Footsteps paused, someone stepping beside him to look out into the night, guns ringing out behind them as interesting as cricket chirps. He stood from his seat on the curb of the street, smashing the butt of his cigarette under his heel.

"Nice weather tonight," he said, uninterested in small-talk but not sure he wanted to throw in with this lot yet. His options were slim, though. Not a lot crazy enough or tough enough to do this, and he needed muscle given his ability.

An equally disinterested, "It is," was the reply. Same voice as the phone call: soft-spoken, muffled, feminine. A glance to the side didn't reveal much more than the voice. Face mostly covered, dead eyes dark with sleep deprivation, limp black hair, and ivory skin that hadn't seen the sun in years, the corpse woman beside him stared forward blankly. Behind her, her silent shadow, a shorter figure with their body hidden beneath a baggy sweater and a collar over the lower half of their face, the two made for a matching pair.

Not that he could judge while wearing someone else's face.

He pulled another cigarette from his pocket, flicking his lighter open. The air shook. A flash of red lit the street, heat on his back. Bullets and screams drowned under an explosion. Glass shards from blown-out windows showered down on them, shrapnel blocked by Nen. He took a lazy drag of his cigarette, admiring the damage, waiting for the wails of survivors to cut the cold night air.

This was what it was like in September. The dread as explosions neared, as gunfire faded into the night, as merciless death approached… Those in the auction halls whining about the fake items and money could die with the Spiders. Safe inside with their assassins, they weren't outside in the thick of the massacre. They weren't shot by a stray bullet from a thug-made-puppet. They didn't escape one Spider to end up in the hands of another. They didn't pull themselves from the teeth of a crashed car. They didn't die in the streets surrounded by minced and beheaded corpses after hours of agony. No, those pricks didn't suffer like his father had at the hands of those heathens.

"So, you want help taking out the Phantom Troupe," he said, stomping out his half-burned cigarette, "because I'd like nothing more than to slaughter them like the curs they are." Meteor City scum, they'd bit the hand that feeds.

"Only if you will be of use to us."

Would he be of use to them, he laughed under his breath. The woman, she boasted personal experience against them. They knew her face. And that, that he could work with in so many wonderful ways that even the Phantom Troupe wouldn't know what was happening.

Agnello turned to his new allies, cocky smile in place. He raised his arms, sleeves dropping down to his wrist to reveal his palms. "Want a demonstration?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the start of the next arc! As of posting this, the Ao3 version is 10 chapters behind the ff.net version. Which... isn't actually much. These coming chapters (and this arc as a whole) are what I want and need to rework/edit the most. Mostly just consistency and continuity details, like foreshadowing, tidbits noticed on a re-read, and character tone/voice, than dramatic alterations. Probably won't post more than two chapters at a time now, since I'm going to look at them a bit closer than previous chapters. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Thank you to everyone that has left kudos!


	40. Alchemy: Oblivion

Uprooted grass, heel digging into soil, a lean left to avoid a fist to the nose, she propelled herself away from a follow-up kick. More punches, pace murder, and he had the audacity to complain about being tired. Another back-step for distance, Lan lunged, heel slamming into Knuckle's shin. Immediate retaliation in a fist swung for her cheek, she flipped backward.

Her right arm buckled, left carrying her entire weight and killing a precious millisecond of reaction time. Not healed and forever a detriment, her teeth clenched as Nemmi screeched his non-existent lungs out.

On her feet again, she whipped around to side-step another incoming hit. Knuckle read her, redirected, his fist blocked by her right arm. His expression soured even if a layer of Nen prevented further injury to the irreparably damaged. She risked a step closer to uppercut the upset off his face. He stumbled back. Hits to the chin tended to disorient. Nemmi shrieked as she went for another exchange.

She had found her wall. It took a few more days than anticipated, but it happened. Knuckle tried, he honestly did, but he could only help so much. Even using APR as a training tool, she paid back aura too quickly- not to mention loaning her his aura worsened the problem.

And why did he have to explain his ability to her? She shouldn't be trusted with that sort of knowledge. It only made her feel obligated to share. A single strike to down a tree, revealing Nemmi and her aura consistency, that had at least tapered his questions of why she couldn't use it on him. As said bird continued screaming, her face scrunched. Knuckle had looked like he had a revelation when he saw Nemmi. Something about her mumbling stuff to no one in truth being her talking with her aura friend. She didn't talk to herself that much…

More whining screeches, she threw up her hands with an aggravated growl. Knuckle stumbled to a stop as she spun around to snap. "What?"

Everything stopped. Her brain misfired.

"Hey, Chrollo," was all her dumb brain could manage as she stared with a mix of emotions. Surprise, mostly, since he did just sort of materialize in front of her without proper warning. Curiosity, too, because she had no idea what he wanted. Also, a bit miffed. He should be nowhere near Knuckle. Then again, they had already met and Chrollo could behave himself, so it shouldn't be an issue. The rest could be summed up in an interesting combination of flustered approval with a touch of confusion. All dressed up for the tropics in a fitted black t-shirt -cross accessories included- and dark gray jeans, bed-head the style of the day to distract from a bandana-covered tattoo, Chrollo Lucilfer should not look as adorable as he did. Nope. Not allowed. He should advertise danger in bold color.

Chrollo had been watching for awhile, if the start of Nemmi's conniption marked his arrival. He had also made himself comfortable under a tree, observing them instead of reading or interrupting. That devil's little flicker of a smile in greeting made her heart flutter in a way she absolutely hated to love.

Lan looked back over her shoulder to Knuckle.

"Go hang out with your boyfriend," he urged, earning a scowl from her. Not at the boyfriend bit, because that's what she told him for simplicity's sake, but because Chrollo's appearance in no way meant the end of this training session. Claiming she worked him harder than Morel… Liar. She couldn't be that bad. "Go. We can pick back up after a break. The animals need to be checked on, too."

Using the scaled weasels as an excuse to escape her… "Fine." He could have his break. Though now she sort of wanted to go see the weasels. "Give Slinky extra pets for me," she spouted out with much too much enthusiasm. Her scowl made him snort in a poor cover-up for an escaped chuckle. Lovable idiot. She left him to his merriment to deal with her... something. The degree _boyfriend_ applied was mystery.

The moment she stood in front of Chrollo, her brain stuttered again. Like most people, he was less intimidating over the safety of text messages and phone calls. In person, well, she couldn't even properly greet him. For someone she should dislike, she felt too excited to see him. The confliction in her managed to silence her into stupidly staring.

Worse, he held out his hand for her to help him up. Which she accepted like the glutton for punishment she was. The moment their fingers met, the way his hand grasped hers, it brought back unnecessary memories of tender touches in the harshest of times. The nostalgic feeling stole the spotlight from necessary suspicion. His thumb brushing over her knuckles distracted her further.

"Boyfriend?"

"Huh?" Snapped from her stupor by a language switch and his attention-stealing voice, it took an embarrassing second for her to understand a single word's meaning. "It was easier than explaining… This." Whatever the hell this was. It took more than simply time to sort this, them, out, and conversation was the unfortunate solution. She still debated if she _should_ trust him- never mind that she stupidly did. Forget a relationship discussion. He was too good with pretty words. "Why are you here?"

"To see you." Said with a cocky smile, she wanted slap him as much as kiss him. Contradicting feelings and a tied tongue made her all the more flustered. And, despite that, she couldn't tear her eyes from his, grey a pretty void she all too happily fell into.

Nemmi landing on her shoulder failed to return her to reality. Instead, her free hand fiddled with the hem of her shirt, unsure. It seemed inevitable, but she didn't have an answer.

"Lanfen," he began when she remained quiet and fidgety. He lifted her arm away from her side, one hand still holding hers while the other gently traced over the lowest line of scars. She might have pulled away and hidden her arm if his touch wasn't a guilty comfort. "How are you?"

For such a simple question, she dreaded it. Dreaded it so fucking much she almost wanted to make a scene to avoid it. _Fine_ wouldn't suffice. _Fine_ was an obvious lie. But _not fine_ was just as non-descriptive and avoidant and unacceptable. Ask Auntie. Explaining how she felt seemed impossible when she honestly didn't know herself. Numbness prevailed. She preferred to keep it that way.

An involuntary twitch in her hand made his eyes narrow. "I see."

"It's… getting better," she finally forced out, though her eyes sought the ground. If she wasn't useful, he wouldn't stick around, but she didn't understand his definition of useful when it came to her. She questioned his determination to have her as a Spider as much as why he humored her the way he did. If all the concern was feigned, he remained an enviable actor.

He let their arms fall back to their sides, fingers entwined with hers in what had to be a mockery of affection. He had a purpose more than he enjoyed it. She needed to be suspicious. Complacency was dangerous. _He_ was dangerous, even if he made himself seem the opposite. Giving herself to him would have heavy consequences. She wanted it to be her decision, not manipulation.

But did she think of this while apart? Not as much as she should have. Instead, she avoided it. Like always. So much for her grand declarations of change! A defeatist to the inevitable end…

"You view that battle as a loss."

Yes. Yes, she did. No one could convince her otherwise. At most, she could allow it to be labeled a draw, since they both would have died without outside interference. That battle was one of many reasons she needed to get stronger. And, if she couldn't, then…

His fingers found her chin, bringing her eyes from the ground to his face, lingering no longer than that. "May I distract you from training with a selfish request?" Her brows furrowed. Not… Not quite the lecture or pep talk she expected. He wouldn't question her motives. He _understood_ her motives. Maybe. He certainly understood her contrary nature. "Would you keep me company, Lanfen?" he added ever so sweetly, her name a sin on those lips.

"Are you asking me on another date?" Their last proclaimed date had been pleasant despite the situation. The gleam in his eyes also ensured an evening of mayhem only a Spider could create. A momentary escape from reality… A break, if you will, she could probably use one. Although, how much of a break would it be to worry about _his_ motives? At least Knuckle had pure intentions- her intentions concerned her more, with him. "I have a condition."

"You have a question," he corrected like the smart-mouthed jerk he was. In a poor cover up for amusement, he earned himself an eye roll with a twitch of a smile.

She swung her arm, drawing attention to their hands still clasped together like they were sweethearts. It might be nice to pretend they were. "A sacrifice or a privilege?"

"A pleasure."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, scrutinizing him and his too-quick answer. His face, of course, gave away nothing more than he wanted. "I don't think I believe you." He had to get more out of holding her hand than simple enjoyment. "Not completely." He was presumably human, so he could like some cuddly stuff occasionally, she supposed. But he was also the infamous leader of the Phantom Troupe. Hand holding seemed out of character. Unless it got him something. Beside affectionate contact. She could think in circles all day long given the opportunity, but Chrollo knew her well enough to avoid that. Instead, he continued his tirade of annoying questions with questionable concern.

"Is innocent affection that strange to you?"

Those innocently round eyes and the pitying inflection in his question… "There's nothing innocent about you," she mumbled, glancing to the ground, inadvertently to her hand in his. This conversation would get them nowhere because she wouldn't allow it. Being suspicious of everything was tiresome- to her and to Chrollo. So, she tried to derail the conversation until it went away. "Are you jealous of Knuckle or something?"

"Jealous?" Humor leached into his tone, into his expression. "Lanfen, being jealous of him would be the equivalent of being jealous of an animal." He knew the blatant truth would earn him a scowl and a tightened grip on his hand. While he didn't take it back, he added, "Rather, you hold them in a similar regard. As something innocent. As something you would corrupt."

"Shut up." _You're right, though._ Knuckle. Morel. Hell, even Shoot. They were all too good to be associating with her. The real her, not the watered-down Hunter persona. Auntie would love them, and that's how she knew. The fact Auntie hated Chrollo… Disappointing Auntie always stung in the worst of ways. Especially when her expectations were already so low.

For a distraction, he wasn't allowing her to ignore her assortment of issues very well.

"You know me too well," she whispered, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. She had such low standards for friendship. A little understanding and she was ready to hand herself over, body and soul and all. Stubborn resistance was all the protection she had, and that was so quick to crumble. She'd repeat the same mistake until it killed her at this rate.

But the harm and temptation in escaping reality with him again… She finally pulled her hand from his, Chrollo releasing her without protest. Rejecting contact had always been an option. An unrejected option that only proved her own enjoyment.

"I have another condition."

"Demand," he corrected.

"You're asking to be slapped."

"You don't want to hurt me."

The confidence in his response slapped _her_ in the face. She still didn't understand. He shouldn't be so convinced. He shouldn't trust her if she didn't trust herself.

Her eyes darted from his again as she killed the subject there. "I want a shower before anything else." How he could tolerate standing so close to her… The man must have no sense of smell. She questioned his eyesight, too. After training for… Her brows came together. The bloody sunset above, they had arrived an hour before dawn. No wonder Knuckle wanted a break… "And different clothes," she added, now felling guilty for working Knuckle to death and the stench surely clinging to her. Drenched in sweat, soaked in blood, bruises covering her skin, snot from prolonged crying, wasp sting welts, the time she almost threw up on him… Why did Chrollo always manage to see her at her absolute worst? The thought of why he kept coming back echoed harshly in her mind, a realistic and an idealistic conclusion harsher yet.

"Lead the way," Chrollo said to break her fretting over seemingly trivial matters. For as quick as her moods jumped, he still managed to read her.

She grumbled an unintelligible response, Nemmi chattering with due suspicion. She began trudging her way to a trail. A trail that looped through the reserve, connected to a poorly-kept dirt road, and eventually returned to a main road for an hour drive to a small town with nothing particularly interesting. How Chrollo managed to track her down might be a question better left unasked. She certainly had no idea what Chrollo had in mind for this date. Had to be something important to travel to certified nowhere to recruit her help.

But it would be distracting, and that's all that really mattered. She didn't want to think.

* * *

Opulence straddling ostentatious, the mansion sat on an overly manicured lawn (don't get her started on the natural flora removed for the power status of trimmed grass). The scattered lights glowed dim gold in midnight darkness. Even for the late hour, the place seemed oddly dead. The home of some rich politician or something, it begged to be robbed.

"Nemmi," Lan said, breaking mindless bug chatter, "go look around. Get an idea what sort of security they have in place." Not that it looked particularly secure. She certainly didn't sense anything extraordinary. "And don't break anything," she whisper-hissed as Nemmi flapped his wings. Indignant bird squawked in her ear, offended, before flying off.

"You have destructive tendencies," _that carry over to your Nen_. Chrollo stood beside her, hands in his pockets as he looked to the mansion. Or longingly at an invisible ability that he had once coveted. She… believed him when he said he no longer wanted it. He shared his ability with her, so…

"So," she dragged out, curiosity not well-hidden, "did you need or want my help?"

His chuckle made it obvious. "If I were alone, this would be boring." He paused, looking wistfully into the night. His tone shifted, matching the allowed slip in his expression. "You could say I miss the chaos of company."

She glanced back to the mansion. Surprising and unsurprising. Even if it was a controlled show of emotion... He missed his friends. Of course, he did. The Spider meant everything to him. He even called them his family. Since he couldn't so much as talk to them while under that curse, she became his next best option. Somehow. Maybe he did come here just to spend time with her, this outing an incidental excuse.

A pale blue glow, Nemmi returned disappointingly soon. He clawed at the grass, tossing around roots and soil. Chrollo watched the display, not needing a translation to understood agitation.

Her eyes went wide when she finally realized.

This _was_ a date. They should both be entertained (or distracted, at least). If she could offer him any comfort from the loneliness of being without his friends, she would. She wanted to. Because he… Chrollo did the same for her. A lie or not, he was there for her as her world collapsed. Relationships of all sorts were built on trust as much as mutual effort. And she still wanted that, despite every rational part of her screaming _danger_.

Nemmi fluffed his feathers when she stared at Chrollo with revelation too long.

"That dismal, huh?" The lack of lines and Nemmi's generally disgruntled behavior, security had to be pathetic. Probably not even any Nen users… Nemmi could have taken care of everything on his own, if he'd been ordered. But that'd be boring. And this was a date. How to make this fun… Make a show? She looked to Chrollo with that partial idea in mind.

"Front door?"

* * *

Ridiculous double doors splintered and fell from their hinges in a crash. Lan brushed imaginary debris from her shorts in a poor effort to hide her burning face. She could have kicked in the door herself, but Chrollo had helped. With equal destructive force. She couldn't help but drool over him, okay? For a presumed specialist without access to Nen, he remained horrifyingly strong, and oh how hot she found that.

A startled scream of "Assassins!" barely cut through her fawning. A glance to the man drawing a pistol, a fountain of blood spraying from his neck, a decapitated head hitting the floor, Nemmi returned to her shoulder within a breath. Proud, he cawed, chest puffed.

Thundering footsteps filled an eerily quiet house. Within a few seconds, several more underprepared bodyguards rushed into the dark foyer, guns drawn.

"Close your eyes, please," Chrollo said, ever-polite voice suspiciously distant.

She didn't hesitate. Her eyes pinched closed, her ears picked up the distinct flick of light switches. She couldn't fight the grin forming on her lips. Nemmi understood as well. A fractional moment of blinding light, the resulting pained hisses, Nemmi left her shoulder.

The moment the room plunged back into darkness, Lan opened her eyes to catch the end of Nemmi's sweep. Limp bodies fell to the floor to pool blood. The silence, no more filed into the room to die, likely hiding away with their employer. While it didn't look like anyone was home, the number of armed guards and lack of other employees brought suspicion. Still, no Nen-users, so not a problem.

When preening Nemmi returned to her shoulder, she lazily joined Chrollo, not hiding her approval.

"Neat trick." The jarring change from darkness to light, it took time for eyes to adjust. Even she would have been momentarily blinded without the warning. Although, Nemmi could still lash out, unaffected. If anything, her panic would incite him to attack. Perk of a constantly activated ability able to act on its own.

"Would you believe the chain user used a similar trick to capture me?"

"Really?" She had wondered how _he_ ended up in the role of hostage. His first explanation had been severely lacking in detail. At most, he mentioned capturing the two kids, him and a few Spiders waiting for the rest of the group, then him being captured. No in-between. "He must have quite the grudge against you to risk using a trick like that," she commented absently. As disorienting as a drastic change in lighting could be, and as useful as a Nen-disabling ability was, there were still multiple Spiders present and hostages in hand. "You probably have a lot of people lined up to take revenge on you."

They started walking, side by side. "Does that bother you?" he asked, content chatting as they wandered down a hall plastered in artwork, searching for whatever it was he wanted. Not these paintings, apparently. She didn't ask too many questions beyond a simple where and why: a mansion and to steal.

"Not really." She shrugged for emphasis. "You're not the one seeking revenge." For an obvious reason, those consumed with vengeance, ready to stomp on anything and everything on their warpath to revenge, bothered her far more than the reasons someone would seek revenge in the first place. Not that she didn't understand personal vendettas, it was just, ironically, the more innocent people sucked into the plot, the more it annoyed her. Yet… "You know I'm a hypocrite." She couldn't pretend to care about innocent lives, either. If she did, she would be absolutely repulsed by Chrollo. She certainly wouldn't have crawled into bed with him. She cared about herself and handful of other people. That was the selfish truth. "This question may as well be a paradox to me."

He hummed in response. His pace slowed, expression so thoughtful and pensive she wondered what she said. She stared at him as if waiting for some great revelation to come from his silence. Pale moonlight and stars reflected in his eyes as they passed a grand floor-to-ceiling window. The same light highlighted the slight crease in his brow as his concentration slowed them to a halt.

"You have such conviction despite such contradictory beliefs. I don't understand how you analyze your motives enough to verbalize them, let alone attempt to answer a paradox."

"Huh?"

"Your sense of self." An almost bitter smile to himself, the same wistful melancholy as before, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I don't understand it."

Her breath hitched.

The compound. Forcibly shoved to the back of her mind, but she remembered. An epiphany of her own, she remembered the single tear traveling down his cheek as he looked at her. His exact words were gone from memory, but she remembered him denying a sense of empathy before asking if they were similar enough that he could borrow hers. In that moment and now, he seemed sad. Like yearning for the impossible. Like every moment she spent as a child longing to escape only to learn the past doesn't just disappear. It was such an abstract, crushing feeling, she didn't have an exact word. But it was painful. She didn't know if he felt that, or anything similar, or if she completely misunderstood, but the shift in tone was enough. The sadness felt real.

Without a sleeve to catch, with glass relaying her every movement, she hesitated. She hated that she did because if he felt anything near _that_ , even if his every comforting act had been a performance, he _had_ comforted her. This was the bare minimum in reciprocity.

Careful, unsure, her fingertips brushed his palm.

A second or two lasted forever, and longer yet. His reaction amounted to a subtle tip of his head to see her hand clutching his in meager repayment for his every effort. Stubborn, but heart sinking with the distinct feeling of failure, her hand grasped his another drawn out moment. Mainly in a feeble attempt to reassure herself that she hadn't overstepped some boundary. She sucked at comforting other people. Her insecurities refused to share the spotlight.

The reassurance in the gentle squeeze of her hand before he stepped away came as a relief. A slackened grip and she released his hand. Without a single word more, only a shared glance and an understanding this was not the place or time for such discussion, Lan found her spot as his side. They returned to wandering foreign halls.

* * *

Chrollo gave a sideways glance at Lanfen.

Truthfully, this theft had been an excuse. An excuse for many things, not just to remind her of his existence and their mutual enjoyment of each other's company.

Allowing her the majority of the work, he did so to see her Nen again. Or, at least, to see the aftermath of how she utilized it in a more tactical situation opposed to a mere show of strength. He remained impressed with the potential applications. As well as with her. Particularly her willingness to kill at his discretion. She had asked so few questions beyond a simple where.

Would she be upset if she learned their victims were rather innocent by comparison?

Doubtful. Her fickle care extended to so few humans. So long as she wasn't forced to question her morality and directly confront her own hypocrisy, she wouldn't. She reasonably preferred to avoid the associated cognitive dissonance. Except, she also didn't. Why she stressed herself in maintaining a friendship with that Hunter perplexed him. She seemed so much more at ease with him and his similarly lacking morals.

She would feel at home with his Spiders. He didn't mind her sharing his patchwork identity, if it brought her comfort. Their relationship would be mutually beneficial.

Had he given away too much? No, he quickly decided, not keen to list that moment as anywhere near a failure. Lanfen had tried to comfort him. He wanted that connection. For his selfish experiment in empathy.

Though it was a self-told lie that their relationship was purely tactical.

"Wait a second," Lanfen muttered, wandering from his side and pausing his thoughts. He stood in place, hands in his pockets as she made her way towards a refrigerator. (He hadn't been paying much mind to where they were walking, too enthralled with Lanfen. In how moonlight played across her skin and shown brightly in her eyes. In her potential with him. The kitchen was presumably the last place they would find his other treasures. Though a slight detour didn't matter. As he said, this would be boring without her.)

As she picked through the contents, face scrunched in preemptive disappointment, she quietly explained, "I forgot to eat today." Quieter, she added, "Maybe yesterday, too."

Overcompensating for a perceived loss to the Fan Shi, she forgot everything else. Even herself. While he had no specifics of what had transpired during that battle, he had watched enough footage from Heaven's Arena to know her survival was indeed miraculous. A complete mistake, in her eyes.

She didn't leave room for a critique he wouldn't have voiced, slamming the door with a single orange in hand. She held it up, Nemmi shredding the peel in a show of frivolous precision. "And its weirdly quiet in here." The dim glow of her phone's screen lit her crooked smile and the tension-break to come. "Think music would improve the atmosphere?"

"Go ahead."

"Any preferences?"

"I'm sure I will regret saying whatever you wish."

"You will."

A press of a button and her hand immediately flew to her mouth to hide her grin and stifle giggles. She slipped her phone back into her pocket, pacing back to his side with her lips pressed in a firm line. That failed to hide her amusement. A bite of orange failed just as much.

"Excessive?" she managed to ask without a giggle fit following.

"Perhaps a touch." Yet enjoyable enough for a modernized arrangement. If he could conduct a requiem, she could murder to O Fortuna. Who was he to deny her fun on a date? His hand on the small of her back, her eyes shot to his. "We don't want to spend all night here, do we?" How quickly she shook her head at the mere hint of desire. She might have blushed if he had used a more hushed tone. He smiled slightly while urging her to walk with him.

So far from tactical.

* * *

Another door shoved open, the knob slammed into the wall. A half second of silence broke with the metallic clicks of cocked guns. Her reaction time outdid theirs a thousand times over, especially as panic made them clumsy.

Nen shielded her from gunfire as she counted heads with Nemmi. Five. He shuffled on her shoulder, ready. Too bad she got distracted. Teeth in her lip in a poor attempt to stifle the threat of a giggle fit, she tried to ignore Chrollo. Given the situation held so little peril, she was failing. He had decided to use her as a human shield. While completely rational, since even regular bullets would very much hurt him, the way he had to hunch over to hide behind her made for a hilarious image. Any taller and he would have had to pick her up or crouch. Which was a funnier image.

Nemmi hung his head, letting out a scratchy caw of exasperation.

"Get rid of the guns," she finally forced out with a straight face. Again, she didn't ask many questions. Leaving one or two alive might be a prerequisite to finding the thing Chrollo wanted. The bullets needed to stop, though.

Fingers chopped off with gun barrels, the high-pitched screams of pain and terror, she barely heard them over Chrollo muttering a lament about the bullet-hole-filled books lining the walls of the room- a library or study, she bothered to note. While she managed to stifle a laugh, her lips curled into a smile.

Everything about this was wrong. So fucking wrong it became surreal.

Nemmi landed on a desk centered against the opposite wall. He peeked over the edge before dancing with excitement. She tilted her head to the side, understanding he found something interesting but who-knows-what. Could be a watch for all she knew. Nemmi pointed again for emphasis, scratching apart expensive wood when she didn't understand just how great his discovery was.

Chrollo left the protection of her shadow, straightening his back and his demeanor shifting to that cross of irresistibly intimidating. "You may finish the guards," he said, approaching the desk.

A cutting motion with her finger sent Nemmi to finish his bloody rampage without oversight. Lan was much more interested in following Chrollo. He stood at the front of the desk, his hands in pockets, utter indifference written on familiar features. The cold edge in dark eyes darker yet in the dimly lit room, this was the man she met in Yorknew. The man that terrified and captivated her, fear and lust laced so tightly together it knotted her stomach almost painfully.

She had nearly forgotten. Again. Chrollo remained that same predator in human skin that she had met months ago. That was an irrefutable fact easily dismissed. The softness he aimed towards her, that was just one facet. One born from manipulation to hopefully something true. 

She swallowed thickly.

Why did she find that attractive? The power? The control offered through power? She had issues, _more issues_ , if envy dictated her sense of attraction.

"Mister Gerralin," Chrollo said, the polite calm of his tone chilling. Lan leaned over the desk when said man didn't pop his head up. Too busy shaking with his arms defensively held in front of his face. She quickly lost interest in the middle-aged man quivering like a leaf in a squall. "Where do you keep Cleopatra's Amulet?"

Cleopatra's Amulet? Sounded expensive and old. Maybe. Chrollo would probably be happy to ramble on about it. Without distractions, of course.

"You assassins can kill me, but know-know that justice-"

And Lan tuned him out because politics didn't interest her. Something about revealing the crimes of a neighboring country's corrupt government. He rambled like he had rehearsed the proud speech only for nerves to ruin the delivery at the eleventh hour. Instead she rolled her eyes at Nemmi eyeing the man's shiny watch. Silly bird began pacing the desk, tearing into glossy wood to ruin the finish.

"That's not why we're here," Chrollo said when the man took a shaking breath. The man dared glance at them through parted fingers. Nemmi knocked over a vase of colorful flowers, shattered glass causing the man to yelp. "The amulet," Chrollo tried again, "where is it?"

His eyes darted to the opposite wall. Then the door. His return to sputtering signaled the end of his usefulness. A single glance, Chrollo holding her gaze for a half second in silent command, she understood.

"You can have your watch, Nemmi."

A delighted squawk, Lan turned, leaving him to his business. She hopped up on the desk ruined by deep gouges- and now blood spatter given Nemmi's aptitude in messes. She swung her legs as she leaned back on her hands, surveying the damage as Chrollo fiddled with an odd-symbolled painting to reveal a hidden safe. A wave of her hand and Nemmi reluctantly bashed it open before zipping back to his precious watch.

The sharp glass reflecting warm light. The choking stench of death in humidity tainted by tropical flowers. She apparently appreciated a bit of horror with her romance.

An edge of guilt tried to ruin morbid satisfaction.

Nemmi landed on her lap, dropping the watch onto her palm for a welcome reality check away from distressing what-ifs.

She tucked it away, unsure what she wanted to do with it. Watches were useless to her, now. Sell it, maybe? Sounded like a pain to find a pawn shop. She preferred money to immediately appear in her pockets or bank account. How Chrollo had the patience to sell his stolen goods baffled her as much as the enjoyment he got from collecting them. Like now, as he ran his fingers over polished silver and gemstones, captivated.

"The ouroboros symbolizes the cycle of death and renewal in a number of cultures," he began, fingers tracing over the serpent devouring its tail. "Cleopatra's Amulet was created centuries ago by alchemists seeking to break that cycle as much as turn silver to gold." While he turned to her, his attention remained on the amulet. His fingers rested on the hollow center, empty of a centerpiece gem. "It was meant to hold a philosopher's stone and grant the wearer immortality. The amulet has long since outlived the beliefs of its creators." His adoration for a trinket almost unnervingly copied the affectionate looks he gave her. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Untarnished by time but forever incomplete…"

"It's worth more than them," she mumbled, waving her hand in loose gesture to fresh corpses. "When it's discovered missing, people will mourn its loss while they become a faceless footnote, right?" The guy had a crowd seeking to silence him to assume them assassins without pause. Even if the trinket wasn't worth much, sensationalism would distract. A beloved tactic of the Bai Ze, she'd seen it before. The rest of the world could be just as cruel and selfish when it came to supposedly precious items.

She had that ingrained in her mind from a young age. How many people died in the search for Fanghe's worthless lie? She had no idea. She didn't particularly care. She only cared that she, her mother, and Auntie ended up suffering for it.

But Chrollo, he had come from Meteor City. While she remained curious of the place, of reality versus rumor, she couldn't imagine what sort of childhood he could have had there. In fact, she knew very little about him and his past. Only that, before the Spider, he also viewed himself as nothing.

"Chrollo, do you like having a bounty on yourself?" It did quite literally place value on his life.

"Do I? I wonder…" He lowered the amulet, glancing upward as he seriously considered the question. "Does having a bounty on my life give me a sense of value? Or is it merely confirmation that lives have a price? That I would mean nothing without an assigned value?" His musings came to an abrupt end as he turned to her, eyes wide, curious. "What do you think, Lanfen? What gives someone value?"

"I…" She didn't expect the question to be turned back onto her. She should have. He deflected personal questions a lot, apparently more interested in her opinion than sharing his. If he had one. "I don't know that's…" _A really hard question to answer_. She might have said point taken if he seemed irritated with being asked something difficult out of nowhere. But, no, he seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts.

"Lanfen, tell me, what value do you think you have to me?

Worse question. As she stared into space, startled still, Chrollo approached. Standing close, leaning in closer, he gently brought the amulet over her head. It felt heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes darted to the side in a hopeless effort. Continued silence, and he carefully adjusted the amulet, the hollow center over her heart, his fingers lingering on weighted metal. "I don't know." She swallowed down nerves, knowing that was unsatisfactory. To him and to her. Because, if she answered, he might… He might give her a comforting list of reasons why. Reasons to support her hopes that this could be more than a game. "At worst, a toy to pass the time with." A half-truth. "At best, maybe a tool to get revenge." A complete lie. It would hurt far more if he was just using her for petty revenge.

His eyes abandoned the amulet. To bring her attention back to his face, his palm cupped her cheek, tenderly rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone. "You're captivating, Lanfen."

Her heart sputtered helplessly. Her lips parted to say anything only to fail. Said so seriously, so sincerely… She hated that he could melt her mind with a single touch and a few words.

"I want to understand you," he continued, another stake to her quaking heart. She wanted to beg. Beg that this wasn't manipulation disguised as love. "My priority will always be the Spider." His words stung with truth. Thinking anything else would be delusional, but a pleasant fantasy indeed. To be the center of his world… "However, the more time I spend with you, the more I am convinced. Your talent. Your disposition. In every way, you would make an exceptional Spider." The part of her that craved his approval swelled with his praise. "We complement each other well. Your company is a guilty pleasure I wish to indulge in as long as you allow." The ever-present caveat dressed as a decision, affection softening the severity… "You're important to me. Dearly so."

Loving words cut deeper than any insult.

Left without words of her own, Lan tugged at the hem of his shirt to get him to take that final step closer. She rested her forehead on his chest. Perhaps not the smartest way to hide her face, her nose filled with his familiar scent and his heartbeat faint in her ears, but to hide, that's what she wanted. Loathing and loving this moment, heartbroken and euphoric at his words, trusting and mistrusting his sincerity, the confliction felt overwhelming.

She never dealt with the emotional fallout. Of anything. Just swept it aside to focus on physical strength over mental stability… Now she pathetically felt like crying. In frustration and uncertainty and stress and-

And his hand gently combing through her hair almost pushed her over the edge.

She didn't want to be like this. She didn't want to doubt everything he said, especially sweet words of affirmation, but if she didn't then- then she might end up dead. She was scared of him, of the power he had over her through words alone. A single declaration could destroy her. Freely handing him that power constricted her chest, closed her throat to suffocate her with fear of the same intimacy she wanted.

The damage ran deep. Repeated abuse of her trust, it terrified her that it might have ruined her ever being close to someone. It was also terrifying to take that risk and even try. Not after the minimal attempt with Hisoka had backfired into a death sentence.

"Chrollo," she whispered under her breath, lifting her head from his chest. Over his heart, she left her hand. Hesitantly, she raised her gaze to meet his. "You're terrifying." In every way imaginable. A few _kind_ words and he almost triggered a full-blown meltdown. Her insecurities, her past, her family, he knew such awful things about her, yet he persisted.

His expression softened with his voice. "I know." Comfort or threat, he understood the weight of his words. An absurd amount of patience was necessary to help her overcome major trust issues with more than just him. And Chrollo, he had proven exceedingly patient, so maybe…

The gentle coaxing of her to her own oblivion, if there was a mind game played between them, that would be the end goal.

She moved her hand from his chest to the nape of his neck, his skin warm, comforting. Grey clashed with brown as she pulled herself closer, her parted lips stealing his eyes from hers. He leaned in, his breath tickling her skin as his lips brushed hers like a ghost. A half-second pause to savor the moment rather than hesitation brought on by nerves, Lan wanted to forget internal debate again. He'd humor that, wouldn't he? A game or a relationship, either way, he won if she gave into blind desire. Except, maybe, she could get him to drop his guard enough for her to figure out his sincerity for herself. Even if just for pretend rationale, the illusion she wasn't helpless would help. She knew better this time, right? She had learned from the best, right? A single success might be enough to prove a future.

The distance closed, Lan pressed her lips to his. They moved together with slow-building passion, tender and sweetly chaste devolving with ignited need. Harsher as his mouth pressed tighter to hers, moved more fervently with hers, she pulled him closer, soft moan caught in her throat. Intoxicating as always, she forgot everything else, if just for a moment. The way he made her feel made this such a dangerous game to play. Giving into him would be blissful. Stupid, but blissful.

A shrill noise _not_ from her phone, nor a seething Nemmi, their kiss broke apart with a sigh. Her eyes opened, she saw equal disappointment in his. Flashing lights reflected in void grey, the same obnoxious lights colored the room. The room of corpses. She'd momentarily forgotten that detail, too preoccupied with Chrollo and herself to remember the highly illegal activities constituting their date.

"I can't believe they called the police." She pouted, because really? For an estate in the middle of nowhere and a man in hiding, calling the police to deal with assassins was an incredibly desperate move. Or a final 'fuck you.' She had finally found something physical to distract from her thoughts and a flimsy motive to exacerbate another mistake. _This_ distraction was no longer necessary. (She also would have eventually remembered. She did have some standards when it came to location. And Chrollo -presumably- had more class than fucking her in a dirty blood-soaked room.) So, she latched onto irritation over apprehension. For now.

Fingers brushing the amulet still on her chest became a silent command to keep it with her. "While rather pointless, it _has_ managed to become irritating," he agreed, walking back to the safe to shuffle through a stack of folders underneath a few other trinkets- that promptly went into his pockets. Papers of authenticity or something? Money?

Nemmi's talons dug into her shoulder. Quiet clicks of his beak, he chided her well after she stood. He wasn't ready to leave behind the paramount concern of trust for the same foolishness of Cenvien, let alone the Hunter Exam.

Her eyes searched the room for anything immediately worthwhile. If not cash from this outing, she may just pester Chrollo for the rest of her money. Or part of the profit from all the Bai Ze treasures he had stashed in her room- because she _and_ Auntie damn well investigated the reason for his unaccompanied visit.

His valuables in hand, he approached their exit: a _conveniently_ high window ensuring an awkward scale down to the ground. That marked the end of her search time and the start of another wayward mission.

* * *

Spoils of the night neatly in line with their few belongings, Chrollo stepped away from the kitchen counter. A small apartment, habitable but by no means nice, Lanfen had made no effort to make the place home in the month she claimed to have spent here. Too busy training or tending to animals, he assumed.

Lanfen finished scrubbing her hands clean, sparkling watch stolen from the sink-side by an invisible pest.

He had never been more convinced he would have talons in his neck than the car ride back here. The second Lanfen's attention had devolved into wanting, with her fiddling with her shorts for his attention, Nemmi shredded his headrest to kill the mood.

Momentarily.

The bird's pouting in the corner with its watch, Lanfen appeared to have sent it to time-out.

Chrollo approached, standing behind her, a hand set on her hip. Lanfen easily allowed him to guide her back a step. Bringing her close, his fingers brushed down her arm, over scars reminding him of his promise for revenge. He wouldn't tell her, given her earlier words, but they would pay for allowing such harm to befall her. Above all, they would pay for poisoning her. Did she still have nightmares? Exhausting herself with training may be a sign she couldn't sleep…

He wrapped his other arm around her waist to pull her body fully flush to his. His face turned into her hair, his lips pressed to the side of her head. He had been met by mild disappointment when seeing she had chosen to keep the undercut, but she had an aesthetic to keep, he supposed. A minor detail. The sweet floral scent in her hair, like her namesake, he enjoyed that. While traveling together, they had used the same cheap hotel soaps and he didn't get to enjoy something more individualized. Did she notice the same with him? It was a horribly sentimental, intimate thing, finding enjoyment in scents. It's exactly what he wanted to play with.

"Today wasn't just some elaborate way to seduce me, I hope."

His every act was meant to seduce her, just not solely into bed. Regardless, he smiled softly, falling into the role of doting lover perhaps too easily now. "I wouldn't go out of my way to sleep with just anyone." She was a special case. There was no more of an ulterior motive than strengthening a bond and mutual pleasure.

Lanfen leaned into him, content. Carefully, his fingers traced over her neck on the way to her chin, a risk at a boundary crossed. Her body tensed, thickly swallowing unnecessary fear before she forced herself to relax into him again, to trust him again. His ego delighted in it. He tipped her head back and to the side as his lips met delicate skin, her pulse beneath his lips. Her breath caught. The hand on her hip slid lower, feeling down to exposed skin. She set her hand over his, guided him to her bare inner thigh, starved for attention and quick to lose any shyness.

 _Just_ seducing her into bed would have been easier.

"Would you mind if I took more initiative?" he whispered into the crook of her neck. Last time had been, mostly, to comfort her as much as distract her. She would have accepted anything to momentarily bury her turmoil. He hadn't wanted to add to it too much, nor somehow scare her away. He had no idea what experiences she had, but he guessed negative considering her last partner. The result was avoiding anything borderline rough and forfeiting all control to her.

"By all means." So quick to agree, he released her chin to let his fingers trace a path down her chest until he could slip his hand under her shirt to feel heated skin. "But last time, did you…" Her focus to the side, she trailed off for him to complete the question.

"Did I manipulate you into your decision?" She shifted in his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the subject of her own choosing. She wanted to trust him, just years of conditioning made it difficult indeed. Reassurance and patience were all he had to give. "My intent for that day was to enjoy your company while I was able. I would have been content reading had you not joined me." At her nod, he brushed his fingers up her thigh again, adding, "Though you were rather enticing in that dress." He pulled her back flush against him again, wanting her close, enjoying the way her body pressed into his.

"The dress _you_ picked out." An accusation, but she made no move to flee. Instead, she pouted. "You tell a lot of half-truths."

"Do I?" He did, didn't he? The dress had been a whim without conscious thought, though he also supposed he found the thought of having her appealing and created a self-fulfilling prophecy. "If something is meant to happen, it will." Fate pushed them together, and who was he to deny fate? He didn't need to consider subconscious thoughts.

"Like fate." For understanding him so well, she pouted again at the truth. Her hand found his cheek, brought his face close enough for her to just barely touch her lips to his. Curiously sorrowful eyes held his. "Do you think your decisions matter, if you believe in fate?" An intimate question for an intimate act… yet not in her usual debating way. She wanted to know him, as he wanted to know her, but…

"I don't think one is capable of fighting against fate unless they know the future. And, even then…" He wasn't as willing to share. "Do you want sex or a philosophical debate?" He knew which he preferred. At least, if this was to be the subject of the debate.

"If it won't kill your mood," but it did, "you can talk about whatever you'd like." Both. Such a Lanfen answer. She quite literally couldn't make a decision to save her life.

"What do you believe?"

"That people make choices." From her perspective, he could understand. She saw decisions as the catalysts to events, that even when she herself had limited control, another's decision dictated her future as surely as her own. Her fear of destroying her own future unfortunately froze her. Her belief, however, offered a level of hope absent from his. "I seem to remember someone telling me that change is possible through personal choice."

"You've had time to think, I see." She listened well. He didn't doubt that now, without the Fan Shi distracting her, his words would be heavily scrutinized. Lanfen was observant… when she wanted to be. And, if she had committed to judging his motives, he wanted to know her conclusion. "It would have been cruel to crush what little hope you had." Breaking her wasn't his goal. Rather, he wanted to build her up into a perfect Spider to carry out his will. She just needed to accept that as the pinnacle of his love. "Do you remember what else I said?"

"That you don't follow your own advice."

"My intentions may not have been wholly pure, but I did tell you that because I believed it would help you." The truth as a manipulation tactic remained as contradictory as Lanfen herself. Though, now, he wouldn't necessarily say he was speaking the truth to manipulate her. It wasn't that strategic anymore. It was almost habit. "Fate is a burdensome belief." His lips to her temple following a feather light kiss, he quietly admitted, "I rather enjoy the optimism in your belief."

"It's rather depressing that you consider me optimistic."

He smiled with bitter humor. Another similarity to someone crushed by past circumstances, he didn't want her to shatter the same, did he? No. The distorted mirror in front of him, he wanted to see what could have been. Even if fate had forsaken her, he wanted her to cling to the hope her decisions could rewrite fate's script.

Because, perhaps, he had once been optimistic too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to put this off, but I wanted to get chapter 50 done before posting that and this chapter's edit- and both happened to be seriously long chapters, 50 the 2nd longest, 39 maybe 3rd or 4th. Also was debating if I wanted to add to the end of this chapter, but decided nah, doesn't add much beyond word count. Maybe content for a cut-scene collection. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos!


	41. Skeletons: Astray

A spider. _The_ spider. Lan stared at black ink on pale skin, her nose nearly pressed to his back as she cuddled up to him. The tattoo filled her vision completely. If she wasn't comfortable with her arm wrapped around him, her hand on his chest, heartbeat under her palm, she might have absently traced the fragile legs of the spider.

The thought of finding her clothes nagged at her. Somewhere near the table or sink, she didn't remember where Chrollo had dropped them after so kindly "helping" her out of them. To be fair, she didn't remember where she left his clothes, either. Her focus had been elsewhere. Like on his fingertips digging into her hips with each thrust, on his breath and lips against her skin as he whispered loving nothings in the form of heavy breaths, her name, and subdued sounds of pleasure, on her bare body braced on the cold varnished tabletop as pleasure overwhelmed delicate, by then oversensitive, nerves. By the time they made it to the bed for another round her senses were his and only his.

A second fall into temptation, he reminded her he could play lover just as well as any other role he chose.

Yet, for someone so physically content, her brain only shut up briefly before returning with due vengeance— accompanied by shrill complaints from her more rational side leaving his time-out.

She didn't feel bare enough. For being stripped naked and lying next to him, blanket shoved aside to make body heat tolerable in the tropics, she didn't feel as vulnerable as she should. Instead, she had light-headed euphoria made stronger without the cloud of regret and fear that darkened their first time.

Half-pretending to give into desire over reason again, she had a purpose more than pleasure. Because, in Cenvien, after sex and a nap, Chrollo had been markedly more open. If answering a single personal question with a semi-avoidant answer was considered open. She, apparently, had low enough standards that it was, but that was another matter. It was still a long shot with undue hope, but he was riding the same high as her right now. Maybe he would answer honestly without pressing because of it.

That's it. Her grand delusion disguised as a rational plan.

Romantic or otherwise, relationships were mutual. She had decided that much, at least. Their future depended on him showing his willingness to meet this single yet paramount condition. But she wasn't unreasonable. Realistically, the bar was still laying-on-the-ground low, but _willingness_ was the key word. For now. She didn't expect him to present his life story with one question. She just… wanted to know he trusted her, too, she supposed. Even if just the tiniest piece of his past, she hoped he trusted her as she had been forced to trust him.

So, she started with an innocent question about the biggest uncertainty between them.

"Why a spider?" Quieter than intended. More solemn than intended. Her heart sank at the telltale sign of her nerves.

"Most humans have an innate fear of spiders," he happily obliged, the Spider his favorite subject. It was hoping too much that he didn't notice her stumble. He just decided to play her game for curiosity's sake. "I wanted something fearsome. Something that would inspire terror at a single glance." While based in logic, it still coaxed a smile to her face.

"Snakes are scary for the same reason, so why not a snake?" His chest rising with a sigh, the way he took her hand and pressed smiling lips to her skin, she giggled a few times. "Come on, Chrollo, why not a snake?" she teased, hoping his dislike stemmed from the same innate fear he used to his benefit. Poetic justice almost as poetic as her comparing him to a devil tempting her. She might have told him that, if she was more confident. With her limited knowledge, a comment like that may derail the conversation into bible lessons from Chrollo. After an evening of debauchery. Another giggle almost escaped past tightly pressed lips. He made her laugh too much… He made it too easy for her to distract herself.

A pause, control regained, her voice softened by fondness, she said, "You sound different." This was the conversation she wanted, even if it could kill the warmth in her chest. "When you speak Anchian, I mean."

"How so?"

An immediate redirect, she struggled. "I… Umm…" It was honestly difficult to describe. The answer may be as simple as it was nice not having to mentally translate everything. She could just spout out whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Or, maybe, it was his tone. His politeness carried over, of course, but it just felt… different, somehow, when he spoke with her. Then again, he had a lovely voice no matter the language. "I don't know, I guess." But she did know her initial comment was misdirection. Her actual question lingered on her tongue a final hesitant second. "Why are you so fluent in it? It's not particularly useful."

Because, it was comparatively useless. She could understand learning the written language, since that was used in a few countries with little variation, but spoken Anchian? The dialect was only spoken in Anchi, essentially unintelligible to the rest. Even she had learned basic Mandri alongside Anchian during her short stint in school. Chrollo had outright admitted that he had rarely visited before the start of their fling. Yet, here he was, speaking with the fluency of a damn native. Seriously, the only thing she had to explain was recent slang that he had found while reading a bus-stop magazine on the way to Auntie's. He still had a cute, if fading, accent to make her feel better about herself, at least.

She didn't understand. He was smart, of course. He could have taught himself. She taught herself most things. But why bother? Of all the languages he could choose to learn, why waste such dedication on Anchian?

She thought, hoped, maybe, it was a personal reason.

* * *

Chrollo allowed silence to fall between them.

Another dreaded reason _why_ , he debated if he wanted to answer with a lie let alone the truth. Releasing her hand, he re-positioned. He wanted to know the price of avoidance. He brushed hair from her face, his palm cupping her cheek as he sought an answer in caramel eyes.

Bright hopefulness fading with anticipatory disappointment… His hand slide from her face, over her shoulder to her back. He pressed her cheek to his chest, thumb rubbing absent circles on her skin.

It came with a steep price.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? To explore intimacy using her? He would have to acquiesce, if but minimally, to achieve that end. Intimacy, by definition, was not a one-sided affair. To deny this request may also forfeit a future of any kind. He smiled slightly, still, at her framing it as innocent rather than vital.

He guided her hand to his ribs, to a faded knife-wound scar earned long before he knew Nen.

"I learned it after Feitan stabbed me for a dictionary." She pulled away, face scrunched in confusion at a contextless line. "We were children." His explanation only made her brows push together more, like children with knives still didn't explain why _Feitan_ would stab him over a _dictionary_. Of course, it was the Feitan aspect drawing questions. He knew better. Considering her aura and age, she, too, had been a child playing with knives. Regardless, the corner of his mouth tugged with a partial smile at her silly expression.

He didn't mind this memory, he supposed. Perhaps sharing it with her wouldn't be as awful as he assumed. Though, that memory only brought with it loss, both recent and past.

* * *

__

_\--Past--_

Chrollo stared at the boy across from him with far less hostility than the other aimed back at him.

Maybe because Chrollo looked at him with curiosity, if slight amusement, rather than due wariness or even offense. The other boy _had_ just barged into Chrollo's humble home –a decrepit shack of discarded plywood and miscellaneous junk now filled with treasures and books— to rattle out harsh words in a language Chrollo didn't understand. He may as well have been speaking backwards. Although, Chrollo felt he would understand that given a moment to adjust.

This boy, however, was far from intimidating. Around the same age and height, as scraggly as the rest of Meteor City children, black hair and dark eyes, the two of them could pass as brothers if Chrollo's eyes weren't so round and large. (The other boy's hair was also cut much neater than Chrollo's recent self-trimmed hair. Machi had only scoffed when he asked her to do it. The result might have changed her mind if it were any worse.)

A final rant in an unknown tongue, the boy snapped. He grabbed a book off the floor and shook it at Chrollo.

"You want a book?" Chrollo said, most certainly to himself since the other boy took his tone alone as an insult worth narrowed eyes and set jaw. "You'll have to be more specific," he added, eyes drifting over a few stacks of books he'd gathered and hadn't had time to read. Or tried to read. His eyes lit up when he realized the likely culprit to this thief's visit.

A book flew through air.

Chucked at his head, Chrollo ducked. The back of his head hit hard ground. A fist aimed to smash his cheek, he kicked the boy's stomach to knock him back. Spit in his face didn't stop him from trying to punch the second he was back on his feet. Chrollo's arm wrenched behind him, he pulled away before his face met ground and a knee to the spine pinned him— Circe had made him eat dirt too many times. Or, by the grip, have his fingers snapped.

A hand on his throat led to an all-out scuffle of haphazard swings, fist-fulls of hair, torn clothes, scattered books, and knocked over knickknacks then used as makeshift weapons.

Following a shove for distance, the boy stepped back, wiping blood from his face. Chrollo bit the inside of his cheek to distract from a future black eye and current pain. Now would be the time to admit to himself that fighting wasn't his strong suit. Yet. He'd figure it out eventually. He shuffled to the side, feigning interest in the boy glaring at him, waiting for his next move. That dictionary had to be somewhere nearby… It was his and he would be keeping it until he wanted to be rid of it.

Aggravated and fuming, the boy stepped forward for another bout. Until his eyes landed on the thick book Chrollo had been ready to hide.

And out came a knife.

He gave up on the dictionary as metal grazed skin, small space not enough to dodge a quick lunge fueled by fury. He held a hand over the cut, watching as the boy tore out of his humble abode with his suddenly precious book. He stumbled out after him, barely catching a glimpse as the boy ran the opposite direction.

He didn't need to look at the blood staining his fingers to know that he should do something about it. Cauterize it? He'd read that in fantasy novel, before, but his stomach churned at the thought of burning flesh. It wouldn't be chemical burns but… he still didn't like the idea of burning himself if he didn't need to. Other options…

A short walk with a very sore side and an idea struck as he saw the perfect person.

"Machi," he greeted, catching her attention. She stopped walking. Reluctantly. As she turned, he held up a bloodied hand to ruin some of the cold edge in icy eyes.

"You get stabbed?" she asked, voice as calm as his— almost as if she wasn't surprised at all. He liked that. It took a lot to shake Machi, and even when it did, she was good at taming her reaction. But she did react when she cared enough. And he liked that too. She was interesting. That's why he enjoyed bothering her—although, that was just the impression she tried to give; she had never told him to go away, so she must enjoy his company as well.

"Would you try sewing this closed, please?" Flesh and fabric were different, of course, but this would be better than leaving it be and certainly better than burning it closed. She liked challenges to stubbornly overcome. If she didn't, she would have never introduced herself to him just to fix his terrible patchwork clothes.

"I guess," she said after a moment of debate, crossing her arms, "but you'll owe me."  
\---

When the pain dulled and he was sure he wouldn't rip out questionable-but-sufficient stitch-work solely by walking, Chrollo began tracking down the thief and his book.

He'd recently succeeded.

Chrollo remained hidden behind the remains of a car buried in trash, watching with renewed interest. Instead of finding his book in the hands of that boy, an older girl held it. Messy hair hiding her face as she paged through the dictionary, he didn't know what they were talking about. The boy seemed to have a permanent scowl, so that didn't help. But their interest in the dictionary, he assumed they were speaking Mandri. That they _only_ spoke Mandri.

The boy shuffling off, aggravated, the girl called after him. Feitan must be his name if the repetition of her plaintive pleas were any indication. Her shoulders slumped as Feitan disappeared. She returned to the pages the following moment like she had long ago given up on dealing with the boy's mood.

Chrollo observed a short time, mostly waiting to see if Feitan came back. He didn't need another knife to the ribs.

The girl focused on the book, flipping pages back and forth, maybe searching it for something specific or learning its layout before setting out to memorize foreign words. He would have done the same, if it was not stolen so soon after he had acquired it.

The first step from his hiding place and the girl's eyes flew to him. Each step after, she clutched the book tighter to her chest, her eyes darting the direction Feitan had gone several times.

Chrollo sat down across from her.

"I would like that back," he said, pointing to the book, "if you wouldn't mind." He watched as her eyes rounded with additional panic. She didn't understand much, if any, of what he had said, then. His calm tone was about all that kept her seated. Her arms caged around the book, she did understand that he wanted it. Feitan probably told her that he had stolen it. Or she assumed it was stolen. Twice stolen, now. Once by Chrollo and again by Feitan.

He made himself comfortable. Seconds dragging by, the girl's shoulders relaxed with his inaction.

"Please," she muttered, cautiously lifting the book from her chest to set on her lap. He kept still, understanding. After searching the dictionary, she turned the book for him to see, pointing to a word.

"Share," he read aloud before nodding. He held out his hand. She reluctantly relinquished the dictionary. It took a while to find an acceptable word. Actual conversation would be time-consuming. He found himself interested in talking with this girl, but he also considered stealing the dictionary and running before Feitan reappeared. Fighting would ensure popped stitches and Machi warned that she wouldn't be redoing her work if he did something stupid. Which she knew he would. He was surprised she didn't invite herself along on his wayward mission under the guise of preserving her work.

"Chrollo," he said, motioning to himself before passing the dictionary back to her, pointing to the character for name. A glance at the Mandri pronunciation and what she said upon reading the word, repeating it under her breath as she pointed to the character to confirm, his brows came together.

"Liang," she introduced, willingly letting Chrollo repossess the book. He found another word, pointing to it. Again, she said something different from printed. She frowned when he pointed to the word below, confirming the oddity as she said it.

"You don't speak Mandri," he concluded, closing the dictionary. Some sort of dialect using the same writing system? The old man had mentioned something like that, once. He ran his fingers over the characters embossed on the cover. He looked back to her. "Not Mandri?"

She stared back at him, lips pressed thin.

The language barrier would be quite irritating until they picked up more of each other's language. He felt over the cover, contemplating. Was it worth it? He did want to know more, but would this girl realistically be able to teach him despite the difficulties? She didn't seem-

"Anchi." Her resolute voice drew his attention. Dark eyes were bright with triumph. "Not Mandri. Anchi." She pointed to herself and then him, expression determined. "Share?" she asked again, word taking on new meaning.  
__

_\---End Past---_

* * *

Contentment in an abbreviated version, her easy acceptance of that memory summarized to a sparse few lines disappointed him. She should expect more from him. She should _demand_ more from him. Reluctantly returning the bare minimum of what she openly gave, she had every right to demand more from a relationship.

Especially because she hinged an apparently paramount decision on his response.

He should revel in the fact he could so easily abuse this, that he already was, but, instead, it disappointed him in a way that almost brought frustration. If he could abuse it, then so could others. Hisoka already had. Being such, it was better to break the habit entirely opposed to encouraging it selectively. Again, he wanted to build her up, not tear her down. To ensure her success as a Spider.

And, so, he also held his tongue on her inspired attempt of using an oxytocin high to manipulate the truth from him. It would only make her question if he had lied, and he hadn't. While he still firmly believed she shouldn't settle for a half-stated truth to determine a perceived important decision, it was still a truth.

He hadn't spoken of Liang at any length in years. Not even, or, rather, especially, with Feitan. In fact, Liang was a subject he preferred to avoid altogether.

"You don't have to answer, but," her voice trailed in apprehension, appreciation for a partial answer entirely too much, "what happened to her?" She knew to expect the worse. The only way someone left the Spider was death.

His eyes narrowed with residual disdain. "Silva Zoldyck killed her." Things were different, now. Even the Zoldycks knew better than to pursue the Spider after their retaliation at Liang's death. They had only grown stronger since that moment. Liang's death served a painful purpose, but a purpose, nonetheless. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe she died for the Spider, not because of it. He wanted to believe fate caused her death while the Spider gave it meaning. "No one may take from us without consequence."

He inadvertently held Lanfen closer in the resulting lapse of heavy silence. The fact she remained motionless didn't go unnoticed. Possessive was a trait she disliked but a trait he certainly possessed. Though, his actions also revealed the status he afforded her despite her not being inducted into the Spider. Yet.

She eventually gave into the latter to return his embrace, her face pressed to his chest as her hand rested between his shoulder blades. In only moments, she relaxed, shoving aside misgivings to live in the present. Another similarity, a detrimental one at that, they would have to work on not using physical means to distract each other from difficult subjects. Though, that sounded nearly contradictory. Her best option was to leave him to focus on herself instead of deciphering his tangle of half-truths. Which may be why she stayed. His motives were as much a distraction as his body. And Lanfen, she began, perhaps remained, a distraction while he bided his time.

"When are you leaving?" With how she clung to him, her preference was clear.

He sat up, pulling free of Lanfen's hold with only minor resistance. Lips pressed into a pout, she made her disappointment over trivial things known. Yet, looking at her exaggerated expression brought fondness. That excess sense of affection remained even after fulfilling more carnal pleasures. How novel.

The fundamental difference in any connection he made outside the Troupe, Lanfen he now intended to keep. The most notable outsiders, the detective, the Hunter, and the psychologist, they were all temporary games played between missions, the reveal of his identity their death or his disappearance serving as the end, all ties severed without care. Lanfen was different. He would undeniably mourn his loss should she die. Yet this affection was still nothing more than a symptom of his premature consideration of her as part of the Spider, wasn't it?

"Tomorrow," he said, leaning over her, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. Her pout vanished, expression replaced with soft affection of her own. "Perhaps later, if it suits us," he added absently before sealing his lips to hers.

The way she melted beneath him while forsaking rational thought… Maybe he had been mistaken. She may have seduced him. Because, even at the inevitable end of this honeymoon phase in their relationship, he would enjoy having her as a companion as much as a lover.

A blow to the back of the head broke his lips from hers.

He made a face at the buzzing phone now next to her head, ignoring her smile and sure that damn bird was silently laughing with her. Her subconscious could be so vicious with suspicion.

"Knuckle," she answered sharply to hide her smile at his expense, "what do-" Frantic screaming on the other end, the frown pushing her brows together, Chrollo wanted to be included, so he leaned in. Her voice raised, her "WHAT!?" was lost in his pained grunt as she shot up, head smacking his full force.

He sat back, rubbing his forehead. He didn't remember skulls being so hard… And he had completely failed to react. His eyes narrowed. Did he… trust her so much that he dropped his guard? It was one thing to miss her Nen, given his state, but he should have attempted to pull away at least a little. She was _not_ a Spider- and he didn't want to think about Spiders betraying him. As things stood, she could kill him if she wanted. Sudden movements should be of some concern.

Lanfen dropped her phone, reaching a hand out hesitantly.

"I'm so sorry, Chrollo," she apologized, sincerely scandalized by an accident. Carefully, tenderly, her palm cupped his cheek, fingertips of her other hand gently inspecting his forehead. "Are you okay?" Never mind. He could probably trust her not to decide to kill him on a whim. Still, he shouldn't throw away caution like she had. "Does it hurt?"

His lips twitched to smile at her complete lack of reference. A smack to the head didn't hurt as much as she seemed to fear. "I'll live, Lanfen."

Confirmation was enough to reignite her panic. Without a bit of dignity, she stumbled out of bed to streak to the other room for her clothes- her only clean pair, apparently. He would have folded them and returned them to the foot of the bed if she had only gone to sleep like he had wanted. He laid back, content listening to her knock around in the other room, rambling about a scaled weasel giving birth and how this was the first in a reserve setting and that they would be "cute little fluffs" before their fangs and horns grew in, before then going off on a tangent about their hunting habits.

She tripped over herself as she tried to walk, pull on her boots, and fix her hair at the same time. Her genuine excitement over weasels made her seem so innocent. A shame, almost, that she didn't focus more on her Hunter work. Gushing over animals remained the pinnacle of her happiness. He just couldn't compare.

"Do you want to come with?"

"I will be there later." He wouldn't mind a shower. He also doubted she had any coffee in her apartment, so he may as well have a full breakfast somewhere. Like an intrusive thought, he immediately considered then bringing her something to eat as well. He shouldn't feel compelled to dote on her when she should know to take better care of herself, but an orange wasn't a suitable meal. She might not know hunger pangs, but he did. And she'd be happily buried in weasel fur. If she were anything like him, and she was, she would neglect eating for hobbies.

She ran off without giving him a second thought.

* * *

Knuckle clenched his jaw, desperate to keep a grin from his face. He failed. He might actually start crying from holding back laughter, but he didn't want to make a commotion. Damn he wished he had his phone or a camera or something on him because this was priceless.

Lanfen had fallen asleep. On the ground. Face-first. Passed out and oblivious, the weasels used her as a playground, one sitting on the back of her head playing with already messy hair, another curled up by her hip sleeping, and two shredding her boots' untied laces. It _killed_ Knuckle. This level of cuteness could prove fatal to just about anyone. Especially after seeing the newborn kits.

The only thing that sort of ruined it were the light marks on her neck and her just-rolled-out-of-a-shared-bed look reminding him her shady boyfriend was around. Sure, she was in a hell of a lot better mood. Even after the kits were born and the excitement settled, she didn't say a word about training. Just non-stop cooing over weasels. So, he'd give the guy that. But still. Bad vibes. He had been wrapped up with the Fan Shi somehow, and that alone gave reason for concern.

And speaking of the bastard, Knuckle could hear footsteps approaching. Guy had been watching from a distance for a few minutes now, eyes burning holes in Knuckle's back. Also, for a guy without Nen, he managed to sneak up too close too stealthily for Knuckle's liking.

Knuckle not so subtly looked over his shoulder, merriment wiped from his face as this _Chrollo_ stepped beside him. Chrollo's eyes were fixed on Lanfen despite the pleasant greeting acknowledging Knuckle's existence. Knuckle didn't miss Lanfen's Nen bird pacing, leaving In like it wanted to show him its mutual displeasure. (How the hell that thing functioned even while she was passed out was a Nen conundrum he'd yet to figure out. Her explanation, per usual, had been vague and evasive. Nemmi was a weird, non-descriptive name for an ability, too.)

Her love life wasn't his business, so he'd keep his trap shut. Didn't mean he had to like the guy, though. Didn't mean he wasn't concerned, either.

Seriously, who wore bandanas anymore? Gang members. That's who.

"Is there somewhere more comfortable for her to sleep?"

"Ah, yeah." Knuckle pointed over his shoulder to the reserve office. Not the nicest building, but it had electricity and running water. The staff lived in town. In all honesty, Knuckle had been sleeping on the ratty couch instead of finding somewhere else. It felt a bit weird to stay with Lanfen when it was just the two of them… "There's a couch."

Knuckle stood to haul Lanfen inside now that he wasn't on the verge of tears. His frown intensified when Chrollo stepped for Lanfen first. The weasels' heads all popped up, beady eyes scrutinizing Chrollo. Even the one relaxing peeked an eye open. Another step and the weasels scattered. Now, Knuckle knew they could be skittish with new people, but what sealed the deal was the sudden glow of pale aura between Lanfen and Chrollo. Nemmi's talons sunk into soil as it gave a death glare. Bird never reacted like this towards Knuckle. Lanfen grumbled in her sleep. "I can-"

"Nemmi, it's best for her to sleep."

Time dragged to a near halt. A command or threat, Nemmi's razor sharp feathers rose, beak open in a silent screech. The crow then scratched apart the ground while stomping aside. Knuckle struggled to comprehend several things. One, that Nemmi could understand commands not issued by Lanfen. Two, that her Nen was capable of acting so freely while she slept. And three, how Chrollo understood Nemmi's indignation when all he could see were a few lines of carved dirt.

As he stood dumbfounded, Chrollo scooped Lanfen off the ground. Without any sign of effort. Now, he'd give that Lanfen was fairly small, but some non-Nen-user should not be plucking someone's dead-asleep weight off the ground like they were a housecat.

Even as Chrollo held her close against him, her head lulling to the side to rest on his chest like some romance movie trope, Knuckle felt his suspicions deepen with his frown.

He didn't like this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on future chapters over editing these, sorry for the long waits between updates (compared to when I started, at least.)
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is otherwise known as my attempt at languages. I say attempt because it all makes sense until it hits the hxh universe (Kakin, what is their language? Since Anchi is near it, that would have been the practical language to learn aside from the canon English/Japanese standard language). Anchian is like Cantonese (being that Kou-Ang's namesake came from Hong Kong) while Mandri is, you know, Mandarin. Yeah, I overthought this a lot, lol. I like languages. This I can say for sure, though, the difference Lan found in Chrollo's Anchian is from him adopting Liang's speech habits. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Thank you to everyone that has left kudos and comments; you definitely remind me to post edited chapters and motivate me to keep pushing forward.


	42. Dependency: Mania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Warning: Mild Sexual Content**  
>  Third line break to the forth if you want to skip; it's not a full-blown scene like last warning, just foreplay really.

Apparently, Lan made it seem like she never had anything better to do than comply with his whims.

Presumptuous and unexpected, Chrollo had sent a cryptic message about 'picking up his dry cleaning.' While he gave two locations, a quick search only spat back abandoned properties and back alleys opposed to anything telling. Because he certainly refused to tell her.

He knew she was too curious and too trusting to _not_ investigate. Jerk.

Nemmi chirped, shuffling on her lap. He pointed his beak to the window, the airship descending into the chaotic cityscape. Yorknew City lights and haze blocked the stars. At once, her heart felt hollow, both from memories and the underlying significance in returning.

She could pretend to be clueless, but his request, they had found the exorcist. He wanted to meet with her to inevitably bid her farewell until Spider did she join.

Despite rational loathing, Nemmi cuddled up to her with the swell in sadness.

The moment the exorcist was secured marked the end of their relationship as it stood. She knew that. She always had. Time and time again he made it apparent that the Phantom Troupe came before everything, himself included.

She just didn't compare.

Fiddling with her shirt sleeve became her petting Nemmi in vain hopes of comfort. On a list of future problems she didn't want to think about, the Phantom Troupe neared the top, placed directly after their lovely leader himself. The Spider scared her. It remained an unknown, and her best guesses rarely aligned with reality. Joining would mean commitment, but then Chrollo would be permanent instead of transitory. As ridiculous as it sounded, she wanted some sort of preview to what it would be like without the severe commitment to both.

Not joining left her as alone and free as ever.

She hated thinking about this circle of pros and cons like a definitive answer to a subjective problem would suddenly appear. She would still need to decide and deciding… She didn't know how to live with her own choices. Deciding paralyzed her. She was reactionary, impulsive, all flight or fight. The Fan Shi and Fanghe had always dictated and limited her options. Without them, it was up to her and her alone. Unless she gave away control.

To not think. While all she wanted, it was far from what she needed. And Chrollo, he would distract and indulge her in every way. 

* * *

Another round of gunshots echoed in dark, desolate streets. Mafia business grounds and all. Chrollo's stunt must have created quite the disruption for this much infighting—Lan guessed, since, again, the area was already notorious for the violent resolution of squabbles. Self-absorbed, she just now realized that his actions came with a list of consequences more than Auntie recognizing him.

She shifted the duffel bag, the strap digging into her shoulder. Her goth… lover would be too strong, but what else would she call him? Boyfriend seemed childish and, well, still too strong of term. Fuck buddy was just inappropriate. Anyway, his clothes were bulky and heavy, the coat the main offender. Worse, he had hidden his 'dry cleaning' irritatingly well— even if he did finally offer her a few more hints than coordinates. No floorboard avoided being violently unturned during her search.

A scream, _pop_ , and commotion, she picked up her pace. She didn't want to deal with this, which meant she invited herself to deal with it. Out of an adjacent building, two men scrambled down the street, flying into an alley with the devil at their heels. Their devil just happened to be another gangster in a horrific pattered shirt and pin-stripe suit from another decade, his gaudy gold cross necklace catching city-dulled moonlight.

The man strutted out of the building, gun tucked into his waistband as he lit a cigarette. Her nose wrinkled at the smell and the unfortunate collision course of their paths. Pale blue eyes locked onto her the moment his lighter returned to his pocket. A drag of his cigarette as he sized her up, she looked at him with the same cautious curiosity. Nemmi scurried behind him, out of sight and ready for bloodshed.

In all honesty, the guy was attractive. Not the overkill gangster sleaze aesthetic, she could and had passed on that look. It was mostly because his face shape, nose, and jawline were like Chrollo's. The same general build, if a bit taller, too. Uncanny resemblance, almost.

He had long since decided his buddies were less interesting than her. His attention left her face to slither down her body before returning to her bag. A smile replaced calculation as he unfortunately greeted, "Now what kind of business does a pretty girl like you have on this side of town?" instantly killing his attractiveness.

She internally lamented her decision not to change upon landing in Yorknew. Not only was the air bitterly cold tonight, her shorts had now gained her very unwanted attention from this loser. She wouldn't mind Chrollo looking her over, though. Actually, she wanted that. She could arrange that.

Lan kept silent, glare pushing her brows together.

The light creep of aura shrouding him, he was a Nen-user. As cautious as her, his lingering gaze hadn't been all for appraising appeal. Still, other than being a creep, he showed no overt signs of wanting a fight. And, well, Hisoka made worse passes at her so this guy's meant little. She could ditch him quick if needed. Probably.

"Business." She hoped he took curtness as an adequate warning. Nemmi crowed, feathers raising as he awaited a signal to remove this obstacle. If he insisted on detaining her, she would attack. He didn't seem all that intimidating. Not compared to other people she'd faced, anyway. She would just rather _not_ deal with him. Forbid Chrollo's clothes becoming a casualty in a fight.

"Not out for a good time, then. Damn." He dropped his cigarette, smashing it under his heel. Her expressionless face made him laugh under his breath. "What sort of business? Hunter business?" The weighted pause was meant for an answer that she refused to give. "Drug business?" he asked, gesturing to the stuffed bag. "A bit of both?" The more he ran his mouth, the more this encounter made her think of her run-in with exam boy. Except multiply the annoying factor and decrease the concern. A hitman lacked the career-ending threat of a Hunter. No one would miss him. She had a mafia death toll due to the Phantom Troupe's chaos. What was one more?

"All right, sweetheart. I won't keep you," he said, combing dirt blond hair back into place before reaching for his gun. Nemmi tensed when spent shells fell to the ground as he reloaded. Were all the shots she heard from this guy alone? Didn't seem like a conjured weapon. Nen-infused bullets, maybe? Seemed a waste of effort. Infuriatingly, he kept talking. "Happen to see which way those roaches scurried?"

"Only the one in front of me." She took a step to punctuate her point.

He had the obnoxious laugh of someone not taking her as a serious threat. "My name's Agnello." The wink made her roll her eyes and start pacing the opposite direction. If he just wanted to hit on her, she had every reason to leave. This _Agnello_ ignored soft rejection to call over his shoulder, "Hope we cross paths again when we're less busy, sweetheart. I'll show you how to loosen up."

Nemmi contemplated decapitation with her, Agnello walking the opposite direction without further consequence.

* * *

Early morning on the edge of the Gordeau Desert in a decaying town deserted for Yorknew, in alleys behind the dying storefronts of old buildings, Lan glanced at her phone to confirm that she had, in fact, correctly followed directions. She imagined somewhere a bit more… aesthetic. Even the Yorknew hideout had some charm, after all.

While returning her phone to the near-empty bag carried on her forearm, she almost prayed Chrollo was alone and in the mood for a poor joke— or a serious proposition, depending his reaction. If not, well, she would be making an ass of herself.

Nemmi cawed, aiming a pointed look behind him as he paused hopping.

"I haven't made an ass out of myself yet, no matter your opinion on my clothes," she muttered, rolling her eyes when he screeched again. "They _are_ clothes." Just very thin clothes not meant to see the light of day. The wind easily biting through the sheer fabric covering her legs proved that. Its not like she was strutting around town in _only_ lingerie. She had borrowed his shirt and coat like a reasonable person. Though, her grip was the only thing keeping the bottom from the threat of mud and the fur trim surrounded her face like a tickly lion's mane. His shirt- which she formerly didn't know existed with how he strutted around, bare chest forever on display- didn't fit much better, instead the proper length for a short dress on her. She hoped oversized looked cute on her. Or ridiculous enough to want off immediately.

Nemmi chirped complaints as he hopped along in front of her.

"You're just mad you can't ride on my shoulder." The last thing she wanted was to ruin Chrollo's coat. He liked it enough to want it back, after all. Shredded leather wouldn't please him. "You'd do it on purpose," she added, snorting back a laugh when Nemmi crowed 'gladly.'

They kept walking through a maze of buildings as directed.

A familiar figure leaned against a wall, Chrollo lowered his book at the sound of her footsteps. She caught amusement reflected in his eyes. Then his attention drifted from her face to her legs to lacey stockings that certainly came with a matching set of lingerie. Stopping in front of him, his attention lingering on her legs like he had a mystery to solve, her face felt hot with the realization this was the stupidest idea she had ever had. Yet hopeful that he enjoyed her stupidity in this instance. Because it was stupidity with a purpose. A stupid purpose.

"Chrollo," she greeted plainly. Anything more and her voice would betray her worse than the heat of her skin. She fiddled with the hem of her borrowed shirt, careful not to destroy it with anticipation, while also exposing the bare skin of her upper thigh to keep his gaze like the clumsy master of seduction she was.

"Lanfen," he returned in kind. She almost sighed in relief with his humoring her antics. "I want to discuss something important with you." He offered a hand like a gentleman, charming smile included. "Care to follow?"

She took his hand without much thought, happily forfeiting the reins to him.

Nemmi jumped onto his shoulder, talons threatening fabric and flesh with an ever-tightening grip. Feathers raised like knives, shrill call piercing, Nemmi glared at her with fury. Chrollo's face wiped to an expressionless mask, chilling. He refused to let go of her hand despite knowing it had incited Nemmi's wrath.

Fabric tore.

She returned Nemmi's screech by hissing, "Stop that. Now." He refused, whipping a wing to the side to flap wildly. If he used the opposite wing, Chrollo would be missing half his face on top of presumably marked skin. That pissed her off. "Get down!" Her Nen should not be acting like this. She didn't care what subconscious thought went into his reaction, a flinch away from drawing blood, he should not be threatening Chrollo.

"I'm fine, Lanfen." No, this wasn't fine. He shouldn't have to deal with her out-of-control Nen. Because, in the end, Nemmi was heavily influenced by her. Controlling herself meant controlling Nemmi. "However," he continued, deathly calm even as Nemmi flapped his wing in warning, "I want to know what you were thinking about."

"What I was… thinking about?" Foremost, getting laid, but that wouldn't earn this dramatic reaction. Just exasperation. So, what else? That she didn't want to think? "Nothing." She hadn't been thinking. Thinking would mean giving up her distraction and blissful ignorance. And that's what Chrollo was. Maybe all he was. "I don't remember," she lied, eyes falling on her hand in Chrollo's.

Forfeiting control. That was the careless thought that had crossed her mind. Nemmi had a right to be alarmed, because that thought had applied to more than control forfeited during sex. No, she honestly trusted Chrollo to be a courteous partner even while asserting more dominance over her in bed. Should she trust him beyond that? Hell no. He couldn't answer _anything_ without a half-truth slipping in. The only reason he got any credit with his last attempt was the attempt- and that he seemed honestly sad thinking about that Liang girl.

She needed to differentiate between Chrollo the person and Chrollo the Spider. As stupid as it sounded, separating his goals into those two categories made the most sense to her. Because Chrollo the person -presumably- sort of cared about her while Chrollo the Spider cared about **only** the Spider. Having her join became the compromise, and his methods were ultimately not as important as the result. If he had to manipulate her into it, he would. She had to remember that.

"Nemmi, get down." A final, now satisfied, chirp, and Nemmi hopped to the ground like nothing had happened. "I apologize for that," she said, sincerity dubious, eyes to the side as she pretended Nemmi was just an unruly pet and not a manifestation of her subconscious. That she just internally argued with only to lose.

"Watching you interact with your Nen is truly fascinating." His voice brought her eyes back to his. A silent exchange had filled him with such wonderment he seemed like a kid in a candy store. "So uniquely yours," he said, _praised_. Then wide eyes narrowed with familiar and intent desire. "I want to experience it for myself, but yours is an ability that may lose all its charm in my hands."

She didn't understand why he remained so enamored with—seemingly envious of- Nemmi. She should take it as a compliment, being Nemmi was essentially her with a helping of crow behaviors thrown in. "How _would_ Nemmi act if you borrowed him?" He probably knew enough about crows that that would carry over, but how would his personality influence-

"I don't think it would function at all." Resolute and solemn, said with the resignation of someone that had long since accepted a harsh reality, the conversation ended. A tug at her hand and he coaxed her to silently walk with him.

Nen was heavily influenced by an individual's self, the best abilities highly attuned to that. But Chrollo, he _stole_ Nen abilities. What did that say about him?

* * *

Broken stained glass windows and intricate carvings on termite-eaten wood, decaying beauty, _this_ was his aesthetic, the exact aesthetic she had in mind earlier.

Inside a small, inconspicuous building in a section of town in even further disrepair, was a long-abandoned church stripped of valuables. Still pretty, in the haunting way abandoned places were, with colored morning light dancing on carvings inseparable from the structure. She traced the lines between tiles in a partial mosaic, raising a brow when her finger came away clean. A white dove left spotless despite the surrounding tiles falling away, despite the years of neglect, symbolic but too unlikely. No, Chrollo had cleaned the mosaic to admire it. Weirdo. The corner of her mouth pulled into a crooked smile.

"Is there a reason you chose to wear my coat and shirt?" Chrollo asked, soft, smooth voice breaking tranquil silence.

She turned, biting her lower lip when her brain stuttered. She quickly forgot the décor for her latest idol. Chrollo pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor, making it obvious he had no more use for torn cloth with the return of his usual attire. Eyes tracing his bare chest and stomach as he approached, she fiddled with the hem of her borrowed shirt until he stood in front of her.

"Because your pants wouldn't fit." And she mentally slapped herself over the stupid joke her brain decided to supply. She ignored Nemmi's cackling. "I thought it would be funny," she tried to explain, eyes meeting his to make the situation worse. Her seduction plots always took a turn when she decided to open her mouth. She should just keep quiet.

"Something like that," he said absently, grabbing the edges of his coat, carefully slipping it from her shoulders, fingers not so much as brushing her. He reclaimed it for himself, swinging it behind him as he put his arms through the sleeves, pulling it into perfect place. It was perfect, for him, in how it fit his shoulders, how the fur framed his face, how it left his chest exposed, how it became the mantlepiece symbolizing his position in the Phantom Troupe. Running a hand through his hair, pushing the loose ends from his forehead, cross prominent, his role returned.

The reclamation of this symbol, her fingers twisted fabric.

His hands took hers, gently working her fingers from the hem of his shirt. His attention lingered on her legs before meeting her eyes, his gaze intense. "May I ask what you have on underneath?"

Her eyes flickered away as her skin heated. "Something interesting." Something impulsive. He dropped her hands and she struggled not to fidget. Her clothes weren't where her nerves lie. "Did they find the exorcist?"

Chrollo smiled, the secret of his good mood not very secret. "They did," he answered simply. His hand cupped her cheek, Lan leaning into his touch, his skin pleasantly warm against hers in chilly air. The absent way his thumb ran over her cheekbone made her eyes slipped closed. He moved too soon, her pout immediate. Deliberate, teasing, he was in a good mood. Fingers under her chin tilted her face, dark eyes focused on her, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "We will have plenty of time to discuss that later, if you wish."

She nodded, kept silent as her priorities willfully skewed. His fingertips trailed down her neck, touch feather-light, barely present, fading as he reached her chest. Her eyes wanted to slip closed again. The softest of caresses made her head swim, often more intensely felt than a rough grip. Maybe because gentleness was more foreign. And even her neck, oversensitive with fears, Chrollo's touch felt good, and some of those fears were, for better or worse, absent in his presence.

A slight tug at the hem of her borrowed shirt, she lifted her arms as he pulled it over her head. She ran her teeth over her lip again as he looked her over, expressionless, hiding any reaction to leave her in suspense. His hand rested on the bare skin of her ribcage, thumb toying with the lacy edge of an otherwise sheer bra. His other hand slid down her side to her thigh, making her shift her weight in anticipation. With her impatience, being made to wait felt sadistic, while in the end he did her a favor. Last time felt a thousand times more satisfying than the rushed mess she had initiated. Adaptability and observation made for a deadly lover.

"Like it?" she prompted when she could no longer stand in silence. She had some nerves. Not about how she looked or more rational things. More so that it wouldn't be his taste. Leather and straps would be her bet but finding something that fit her criteria on a whim and a schedule was unreasonable. So, black lace and sheer fabric that left her freezingly exposed.

Her heart fluttered as both of his hands slowly found her hips. Lightly pushing against her as he took a step forward, she took a step back. Soon, wall to her back, the cold mosaic chilled her skin. Chrollo kept her at arm's length, his fingers tracing the edges of what little she wore with admiration while teasing skin. He had an absurd amount of patience that wouldn't break even if –or until- she begged for more. His apparent fascination meant definite approval, but she wanted the satisfaction of hearing him say it. Before she could pout at him teasing, play along with him as he liked, he closed the distance, his body pressing to hers as he leaned in. His breath warm on her lips, she tried to kiss him only for him to tauntingly pull away before they could meet lips. She gripped the edge of his coat.

"I do," he _finally_ answered. The moment his lips pressed to hers, she abandoned thought. Or, she would have had he given her lips more than the briefest of pecks. She leaned closer, his lips hovering over hers. Another little peck and her frustration broke through.

"Chrollo." Sharp and demanding, he ignored her, smirk on his lips, eyes light with enjoyment. Too good of mood. More playful and childish, it made him too cute. "Chrollo," she repeated plaintively, whine creeping into her voice. She squirmed a bit to get an arm free. Her hand running over his chest, if he kept being so mean, she would return the favor in kind.

When she threatened to pull his lips to hers with a hand soon to tangle in soft hair, she found her arms pinned at her sides. He smiled at her knowingly, all too pleased with himself. Her breath hitched. Despite wanting to deny, he pressed closer, his body flush with hers.

"You're awful," she whispered into the crook of his neck, fur collar tickling her nose. He didn't deserve her begging just yet. Her "Please." came out horribly flat and not exactly enthused. She pressed a kiss to his neck, pulse under her lips. When he tilted his head to the side, she slowly trailed a few more kisses to his jaw. He allowed one of her arms to slip free. Immediately her freed hand went to his chest, her thumb rubbing circles.

"That sounded insincere," he lazily admonished, satisfaction leaching in as he released her other arm to wrap his around her waist. A nip at his neck and he sighed, pressed her hips further into his. His hand not so subtly grabbed her butt. She smirked into his neck. Predictable. Picking favorites, she was the one that liked a nice chest.

She understood that even if she had no preference, he didn't want lasting marks. So, she kept to kisses until his lips finally caught hers with more than a peck. Fervent, lips pressed tight to hers, precise words for uncertain feelings weren't necessary. This was so much easier than talking. His fingers slipped under the lace of her bra the same moment to toy with her while destroying her train of thought. Her breath stolen by a passionate kiss, she could only whine when he grabbed her hips to pry her from him too soon.

"You're impatient." She sucked in a breath when his grip tightened. He easily hoisted her up, pinned her between him and the wall, his body spreading her legs. His eyes as he told her, "I promise to make your wait worth it, Lanfen," sent a pleasant shiver up her spine and a quiver lower.

" _That_ sounded suspicious," she mumbled, setting her arms over his shoulders. Such pretty eyes…

" _That_ sounded curious."

She pouted. "I swear…" So difficult today. He could probably tell she was ready for him; she came here horny and her clothes were a giveaway, but he didn't need to torture her forever. His hand drifted from her chest to her thigh, fingertips pressing into soft skin. She wrapped her leg around his waist to let him change their position enough to grab her backside again. The shift rubbed his erection into her. She sighed, leaning her head back into the wall, when she realized she couldn't do more than grind against him. "You want me to guess, don't you?" A warped way of asking permission but asking all the same. Her body almost ached for more stimulation at this point. Especially with him pressed to her scantily clothed body. He knew he had her playing in the palm of his hand. "Against the wall?" Enticing to try, but an easy answer. Really, she trusted him enough to let him do pretty much anything to her. She just wished he'd start doing it already. He clearly had decided upon something, eyes inspiration-struck and playful.

"Tempting, but not quite." His breath hot on her neck before he took skin between his teeth fogged her mind worse. Kissing down her neck to the top of her breasts had both her legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Maybe she could just convince him to take her against the wall instead of whatever else he had in mind. His mouth on her breast, sheer fabric rubbing with his tongue, she squirmed, thoughts slipping. A light moan and he decided to give her a hint before she started begging him to do her however he wanted. She was, sadly, not above that. "It's more like repayment for something you've done for me."

Something she'd done for him? What was he-? Her cheeks burned with realization.

He glanced up at the wrong time, her eyes probably saucers to match her startled stillness and flushed skin. The pause ended with his lips pressed to hers. His tongue running along her lips made her hum in surprise. Usually she initiated, but this was deliberate. As he wanted, he stole the opportunity to move his tongue over hers. A taste of what he could do, her skin managed to sear hotter.

"Why?"

He stared at her, everything else coming to a pause. "Why?" he repeated, confusion so evident she might have laughed under different circumstances. "You're an enjoyable partner." He said it so simply she believed he had no other motive than he was in the mood. Give and take was more her modus operandi than his, so repayment didn't… Unless he was playing by her rules, but then manipulative or considerate? Her prolonged pause misinterpreted her response. "You are free to decline the offer, Lanfen."

"That's not-" She would like to try, just… "I've, ah, never," her words trailed quiet as her eyes shot to the side, "had anyone go down on me." He somehow managed to make her confess the weirdest shit to him in bed. If she had only kept quiet, there wouldn't be this awkward conversation.

His smile, his ego delighted in being her first whenever he got the chance. Probably to be memorable and addicting. Or, more likely, he liked the sense of corrupting innocent things. Didn't get the chance with her often. And abandoned may it be, they were in a _church_. Awful sense of humor, she adored it. Although, giving _her_ oral was a twist she didn't expect. Offering unprompted, no less. His good moods were truly terrifying to behold.

"No one? Not even one of your female partners?" he asked on a more serious note, like he couldn't quite comprehend anyone passing up the opportunity. Flattery. Pure, dirty, flattery. Or, he wanted to know why she had refused past offers. Curiosity and caution towards her anxieties, he wanted to understand how she worked. She couldn't tell if _that_ was for better or worse, either. Derailed any further, though, and he'd want a lengthy discussion about sexual identity again. Her sense of attraction was apparently fascinating.

Her clumsy tongue struggled, so she shook her head in a simple no. "I, um-" _Felt too nervous to ask or accept._ She fiddled with his fur collar, then his hair. The girls she'd been with, their reactions were often… intense. A presumed sensory overload for her, the resulting loss of situational control, even if most of her partners were some degree of drunk and that all had not been Nen users, she would have been left vulnerable in a number of other ways. Then again, she had already thrown away that caution with Chrollo. She trusted him to not kill her while fooling around. But the position would be rather intimate, to say the least. Mentally picturing it wasn't helping. _Flustered_ didn't begin to describe the heat of her skin and the fluttering in her chest. The intensity of his eyes— and the overly pleased quirk of his lips- as he waited for a proper response did nothing to help untie her tongue.

So, she tactfully pressed her lips to his. No better subject change than his mouth moving with hers, his body again against hers, his hands roaming her skin, and never mind. A soft hum of pleasure, the subject stayed the same. Numbing, coherent thoughts fading, kissing him made her head swim the same way as alcohol. Except she liked him more. Giving him up would be difficult. Impossible. She pressed her lips tighter to his, fingers curling into his fur collar, hand shaking from her grip, desperate to not be separated.

* * *

Chrollo continued celebrating the soon-return of his Nen and his friends. He even had a few cans of beer stashed away for the occasion— though he did ask Lan if drinking would bother her before cracking one open. Relaxed, an arm over Lan's shoulder as she sat beside him on a bench, slight upturn to his lips and eyes, he seemed the picture of innocent cheer.

Then there was her, slouching beside him like the epitome of misery.

She didn't feel, for a lack of other words, _happy_ about him getting his Nen back. She should. She would be ecstatic to regain her Nen after months of waiting. Forget that he could finally see his beloved Spiders again. Instead of that more empathetic response, she just wanted to selfishly mourn inevitable change. No matter how good the sex was, she couldn't forget that their relationship was built on a needle point.

"The exorcism," she said, failing to hide the rapid decline in her mood. Made her feel like the rain to his parade.

"Of course." He set his drink aside, turning his body towards her to give her his full attention like the attentive boyfriend he pretended to be. Possibly all performative affection and conditional love. "Hisoka wishes to bring the exorcist to me. While I presume my Spiders are with him, they will be unable to get close to me given this curse. The exorcist may well become a bargaining chip in brokering his fight with me."

She nodded. Sounded like something Hisoka would do. What went unsaid was that he may stalk Chrollo until he got the fight he lusted after. Because an exorcism wouldn't remove the curse instantly, right? The guilt at hoping it didn't…

"Which is why I-" A wince put an abrupt end to what have been a polite command. She leaned closer with her hand tentatively on his arm, unsure what to do as he rubbed his chest to dismiss the pain. The curse hurt that badly… And yet she didn't want it gone.

She understood the order, nonetheless. "I understand," she confirmed, dropping her hand, looking to the floor.

He wanted her to coordinate with the Spiders. Instead of showing up in person, he would have the Spiders grab the exorcist and deliver them to her to then take to him. Simple, in theory. Hisoka's intelligence would complicate things, per usual. She felt like a pawn in their chess game.

Still, to act as a go-between, he didn't ask her to confront Hisoka directly. A kindness or a precaution? Hisoka was like a forbidden subject with how much of an instant mood killer he was. But… "I never slept with him." She never did clarify the depth, or lack thereof, in their relationship. Chrollo probably assumed A LOT more than he should have. She wondered how different his perception of her was from reality. The closer, the more worrisome.

Eyes wide and eyebrows raised, genuine confusion and surprise sat on the border of cute and irritating. If this were a comedy, he would have spat out a mouthful of beer and shouted 'what!?' That half-second of a reaction faded quick. Like he did it just for her. "You're not lying." While not doubtful, he sounded entirely too pleased.

"I have standards." Low standards, but standards. Even if she put too much faith in Hisoka, she never trusted him enough for the vulnerability in sex. Ecstasy tested his control and the result of a break… It was a fool's fantasy to think he wouldn't bite back twice as hard.

"Do you consider him a friend?"

"I don't know." She did, once, but his question was present tense. Did she still? "No." Chrollo made him another problem easy to ignore. Hisoka wasn't a friend. She knew that much. He was more like an excessively cruel mentor, but a mentor. That wanted to reap what he raised. She had unresolved, complicated business with him. So, he couldn't… "Just, what do you plan to do about him? After the exorcism, I mean."

A blank stare and she picked at the hem of yet another borrowed shirt. The discarded shirt Chrollo had on earlier, she claimed it to fight of the chill in the air. It smelled like him… Yet this was a tangent.

"I-" she drew a breath, "know if he pursues you, if he pursues the Spider, you'll kill him." She wasn't a complete idiot. Don't take from us. He said it like a mantra. Hisoka had hell to pay, and Chrollo would be far from a merciful executioner. Hisoka had forfeited his life in betraying them. "That isn't what I'm asking."

"Do you really believe he'll give up?" No. He spent actual years pursuing Chrollo. An obsession like that didn't fade for- "Do you believe he will accept mercy?"

"That's…" She knew he wouldn't. That's why… Why what? Was this pitying or protecting or projecting? Did she not want Hisoka to die? She hated him, right? She needed to if she wanted to live. His life should be a non-issue to her. His death would be convenient.

"You know what he did to us. To the Spider. To me." Chrollo pulled her closer, his lips pressed to the side of her head. "To you." _This is **our** revenge_. How nice to be included. This was the protection she wanted, wasn't it? "When I accept his offer, I will guarantee I win." And she believed him whole-heartedly. A hornet in a swarm of bees, he was alone. "I will _humiliate_ him." A chill ran down her spine despite his hand cupping her cheek lovingly. The conviction a promise, that was an absolute truth. "He doesn't deserve your pity. You know he has none for you."

All she could do was nod. Chrollo was right. Hisoka would throw her away with little regret if it meant gaining something he wanted more. Yet, maybe, it was that minimal regret that kept her intrigued. Because it was something. Fickle and possessive like her, she may be superimposing herself onto him, but to see if that something still meant anything… Why did she want redemption for him? _Because if he can change, I certainly can_. Never mind. She did hate him.

Chrollo brushed a lock of hair from her face, her eyes drifting back to his. "I imagine this curse will take time to lift." Imploring, soft expression a weapon against her, he sweetly asked, "Keep me company a while longer?"

"Because this ends with the return of your Nen."

A fractional silence, the affection in his eyes died as he leaned back, his hand dropping to free her face.

"Yes."

The weight behind one word hit her in the gut.

She wasn't ready to give him up, either.

"But if-" She swallowed hard, mouth full of cotton. The idea scared her. As did losing him. "If I were to join the Spider, then…" Her voice trailed into the quiet oblivion of the forgotten church.

"You would have the same priority as any other member."

Her nails tore at fabric. Such an unfair ultimatum. She didn't want him gone but she also didn't want to be relegated to just another Spider. Their relationship would never be a storybook romance. He was never one to provide that. Not conventionally. It was childish, it was idealistic, it was selfish, but the dumb romantic in her still wanted that unattainable fantasy.

"I want you to join, Lanfen," he said- _repeated_. He must see no other way to progress. Who was she to convince him otherwise? Romance was rightly insignificant in comparison to his patchwork family and his life's work. It was better to cut ties before growing too attached to something you'd never have, right? His persistence may only be a symptom of his patience and his possessiveness.

"What is our relationship?" Maybe he had a more concise answer. Nemmi chirped, reminding her. Chrollo's lips parted with a response, her voice gained an edge as she added, "Don't turn the question back on me." He wasn't allowed to tailor his answer to hers. The way he closed his mouth and smiled proved his intentions.

His pause with his eyes to the ceiling while he thought, she leaned closer, clenching her hands to keep still. A spasm in her right hand had her nails digging deep into her palm. The moment impassioned eyes returned to hers, her heart skipped.

"I think of you as my lover."

She recoiled.

She tried. She tried so hard to find the lie between those words, to overlook the tone and expression as serious as his declaration of Hisoka's fate. The only half-truth to be had was his definition of a lover. Yet, even that, lover was too strong of word even at its weakest meaning. She didn't believe him. He _had_ to be lying. She thought he- Their relationship wasn't- She forced herself to take a shuttering breath. He wasn't allowed to give her false hope. She didn't mean that much to him. Nope. She couldn't unless she was a Spider first. Perquisite not met, she was a toy to pass time. And he was supposed to be her distraction. He was lying. Except he wasn't and-

Her body went rigid with that dread. Something else. Anything else.

"Is that clarification enough?" he asked, so calm, so infuriatingly, enviously calm, as she had another meltdown over a few words. "And you, Lanfen? What do you think of me as?"

"You're complicated." She stood before he could whisper sweet reassurances. Spinning to face him and taking a step to stand in front of him, he looked up at her curiously. He undoubtedly understood she intended to run. "I'll help." He didn't give her much time to plan. Of course, following his plan, she had plenty, but screw his plan. At least Yorknew had much to offer in the way of options.

"Should I be concerned?" His _concern_ sounded awfully amused. At least he let her run away unquestioned.

"Trust me?" she asked, saccharine sweet, batting her eyelashes. She dropped the tone with a pang of guilt. Again, not a matter to make light of. Hesitantly, an apology, she reached out. Her fingertips brushed his forehead as she returned stray locks into place. She should have stopped at that, but his eyes. The soft tranquility edged with something else told her to continue despite her best interests. Her hand cupping his cheek to tilt his face, he watched quietly, his eyes widening the slightest bit. Contact without ulterior motives, intimate in a way apart from lust, this scared her as much as sweet words. Light and unsure and affectionate, she pressed her lips to his forehead.

"I promise I'll get the exorcist," she whispered as she pulled away. Stunned with reciprocation, expression drunk with satisfaction, maybe he did crave the same affection he offered her. The last thing she needed: more hope her fantasies could even be partially true. The need to flee reignited. Wordlessly, hiding her face, Nemmi flying to her shoulder, she retrieved her phone while forsaking everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone thats left comments and kudos! Love hearing from you!


	43. Exorcism: Possession

Chrollo returned his phone to his pocket. Lanfen had run off without asking when and where this exchange was meant to take place. He thought she should know her time limit, though he also shouldn't enable reckless behavior.

Message sent, damage done, he leaned back, closing his eyes.

Why did he say that?

A lie would have sufficed. A lie would have perhaps scared her less. Because calling her his lover, he meant it and she believed him. The only word he could ascribe to a fond obsession… Their relationship, if she kept refusing to join the Phantom Troupe, it needed to end. He could see that. He saw it months ago when, as his fondness for her grew, he began treating her as one of his own. She wasn't. She should have remained as disposable as any other object. A toy to pass time, as she had feared, and nothing more.

The ramifications of this change, the meaning behind this change, she answered a dreaded and coveted why.

Familiarity separated her from an object. Had this curse not left him alone, he undoubtedly would have treated her as a tool to gain the item. She would have been a captive of the Spider. One that he likely would have tormented for entertainment before discarding— be that killing her himself or handing her over to Feitan.

He laughed under his breath because thinking that now brought discomfort. How attached he had grown. Alone with every reason to know her, past motives aside, he had latched onto her to fill the void left by the Troupe. She became an individual opposed to an object.

That child's question in Yorknew: how could he kill people that had nothing to with him? Simple. He dehumanized them. _Things_ were easy to discard.

He shouldn't have said that.

Lanfen… His declaration gave her hope. Hope that he would crush when he abandoned her upon a refusal to join, no longer able to devote such time into isolating her, coddling her, _adoring_ her. And she may refuse even with all his misplaced effort. The misery the Fan Shi both wrought and endured, they were her example. The same wouldn't befall the Phantom Troupe, he would never allow it, but, from her perspective, the threat was real. She feared being trapped by commitment.

And the Phantom Troupe was more binding than blood.

Yet, she also feared abandonment. The way she clung to him, the way he _encouraged_ her to cling to him, since the Fan Shi's fall… Her tears as she spoke of her mother's death and her aunt's departure soon after, how she desperately held onto the memory of a dead bird, how she even held onto to the one-sided friendship she had with Hisoka… Abandoning her, another act he should bear no guilt for, this near hesitance showed he thought, perhaps even _felt_ , otherwise.

Fuel to the fire, he shouldn't have slept with her again. Even that retreat was moving beyond simple physical pleasure to something more. This was no harmless experiment in intimacy; he could no longer convince himself of that lie. If it was a blunder to tell her the truth of their relationship, then this… She was the first he wanted to please without any ulterior motive. Today had been so far removed from tactical he may as well call it what it was: impulse. If it had been planned, he would have at least chosen something he had experience with instead of silently admitting he went out of his way to please her and only her when he had absolutely no valid reason to do so— other than wanting to please her, but that was the issue.

He shifted, leaning forward, resting his chin in his palm, fingers pressed to his lips as he stared at the crumbling dove mosaic left to rot.

The worst of it all, that parting kiss…

A memory. An _intrusive_ memory of twisted fingers gently brushing hair from his forehead, a rough hand cupping his cheek, and deformed lips tenderly kissing his head while mumbling incomprehensible words in an affectionate tone, he didn't like thinking of his mother. Lanfen had dredged up his fleeting sense of sentimentality again.

A dangerous parallel to make, he saw so many of the lost in her.

This matter, Pakunoda would have been able to help him. Her ability, she could have told him what he wanted without the need to figure it out for himself. She had told him, once, that logic isn't the solution to every issue. This matter didn't need a _logical_ solution. Acknowledging that alone was difficult enough; he certainly lacked the capacity to sort through this on his own. Not as soon as he needed to, anyway.

He didn't want to repeat the mistakes of Yorknew. Nobunaga's sorrow at Uvogin's death had been his own; pursuing the Chain User made sense to him, both for emotional revenge and logical elimination of a threat. Where he failed had been his own capture. He had misjudged the importance of his life.

Lanfen better understood emotions. She also happened to have a problem opposite of him. They balanced each other. This strange equilibrium, he didn't wish to lose it so soon after discovering it.

But her emotions were a double-edged sword. Her temperament, perhaps some of the reason he wanted, _needed_ , to corrupt her further… For as violent as she could be, compared to the Spiders, to him, she was too nice. Naïve, as well as impatient and impulsive yet, still, he adored her concern, her empathy, her affection, _her_. She reminded him of Liang and Liang… Liang had been entirely too kind for the life fate dealt her. Because it was surely fate that killed her, not him.

Fate was cruel. Every moment spent together would serve to intensify the pain of inevitable loss. He shouldn't care if he ripped out her heart, but he should know better than to do it to himself.

He both loved and loathed this mimicry of empathy.

Because this was as close as he got to empathy, wasn't it? Empathy, by definition, was a sense of sharing another's emotions. He understood Lanfen well enough, didn't he? He had the reasoning and observational skills to understand what stimuli triggered what emotions in her. He may even feel some weak form of sympathy for her at times. Their similarities, they meant she could substitute what he didn't readily feel.

Yet empathy was not useful. Detrimental, even. It was a human novelty to observe, not possess.

A final moment to indulge in a guilty pleasure, when he had his Nen… Logically, it would be for the best to forget her. 

* * *

Daybreak on the horizon, desert cold with night's grip, they walked.

Phinks broke bored silence by tactfully introducing the elephant in the room. "Danchou doesn't seriously want that kid to join, does he?" An afterthought and pink eyes already peering up at him, he added, "No offense, Kalluto."

"No," Feitan firmly answered like he would personally ensure it. His eyes narrowed further. "Worthless Paijin brat, no reason to have her join."

Kalluto's gaze darted between the three. "Who?" No one bothered explaining the situation beyond Machi saying Lanfen had sent Danchou's orders. Someone important enough to deliver orders but someone disliked enough to be questioned, Kalluto wanted more information. Quiet and inquisitive, Danchou would like him.

"Not important," Feitan dismissed- while still answering. "Just annoying girl."

"He does." Machi was sure. He wouldn't have bothered keeping Lanfen alive through the Fan Shi incident if he didn't have some use for her. Keeping her around solely to annoy Hisoka wasn't a convincing enough reason to Machi, either.

Feitan sulked more, eyes level with the edge of his collar. "Why would he want Hisoka's whore?" Beyond rasping irritation came confusion. "She not great fighter." Perhaps true in Yorknew, but Feitan hadn't seen the aftermath of her fight with that Fan Shi woman. Lanfen, in the very least, had potential. His brow wrinkled with disgust. "Or looking."

"You think they're doing it?" Eyes went to Phinks, muted horror and repulse unanimous. No one wanted to think about Danchou's sex life. It felt wrong. "What?" He huffed, grumbling, "Don't give me that look, you were thinking it too." He didn't need to voice it… Because they were all thinking it. Danchou didn't… date. He played and discarded. But he wanted her to join, so that disrupted that. Speculating did them no good. When Danchou was back, he'd give his orders, and they'd follow.

"She _is_ helping us, right?"

Walking paused, betrayal fresh, suspicion-filled looks passed between them at Phinks' question.

Machi returned them to pace, Phinks and Kalluto a step behind as Feitan dragged his feet. "She wants to help Danchou," she affirmed. Again.

"You sound sure." Feitan refused to let the topic die. "Why?"

"A hunch?" Phinks raised absent eyebrows, now interested in irritating someone for fun. He didn't care who.

"Yeah." Machi looked forward, conversation over. At least to her.

Feitan scoffed. "Your hunch wrong. Wait and see."

"I don't know, Fei, she's usually right." Phinks said, egging him on. Kalluto side-stepped the daggers Feitan glared at Phinks.

"Wait and see," Feitan grumbled sourly before saying foreign profanities under his breath. He took the lead to kill the subject of his irritation until faced with it. 

* * *

Exorcist in tow, Spiders presently absent, Hisoka was met by a sight to behold.

His sweet Lan greeted him instead of his wayward Chrollo. Interesting in the sense he didn't expect Chrollo to release his grip on her to send her on the hapless errand of a Spider. More interesting was her appearance. Leather jacket over a sports bra, the shortest of shorts, and ripped lace stockings, she begged for attention. Attention that she had already received judging the bruises speckling her neck and chest _and_ knees. His eyes narrowed as a forced grin pulled his lips. Chrollo wouldn't even allow him to enjoy exposed skin without the reminder of her new owner.

For each step closer, tension built. Rigid but still, her back straight and her eyes glaring defiantly into his, Lan wore fake bravado adorably. "Why hello, fledgling," he cooed, voice not enough to send her flying. No, instead she narrowed her eyes further. "I hope this isn't your way of telling me you're joining the Phantom Troupe." He felt extra eyes on his back.

"No." Quick and oh-so-sure, but a lie. The sweet girl she was, she had to see her standing with Chrollo. The distance, their troubles, Chrollo would promise it all solved by her joining his little band of thieves. Adorable thing had a problem accepting pretty lies from those promising friendship. "It isn't," she affirmed again, stronger, brows pushed together in the tightest frown. "I owe him a favor. You won't be stalking him until his Nen returns."

Hisoka hummed. He didn't care either way. Unless Chrollo and Lan were open to a threesome, and they regrettably weren't, tagging along until then could only be entertaining for so long before fruitless pranks and provocation grew boring. He trusted he could find his little spiderlings and their mother again; although, he doubted the need. Chrollo would come to him for his betrayal. What is his is his, and he supposed Chrollo could be sweet like Lan in that vengeful way.

"Chrollo doesn't want to fight you."

Her flagrant lie earned laughter. Smile returned to his painted face, he asked, "Out of spite?"

"Mercy."

"Mercy?" The threat of mercy was one-hundred percent spiteful. "Darling, mercy is the last thing I want."

"You should take the offer."

His smile only grew with his mood. Written all over her face, in the way her eyes darted to the side, in the way her fingers pulled at her sleeve, she didn't believe her own words. He forgot how absolutely adorable his fledgling could be, fidgeting with nerves and hope. Thinking that Chrollo might spare him, a former Spider whom he had once loved as dearly as the rest, was she seeking reassurance that Chrollo won't throw her away the moment her use ended? Or, stranger, more pathetically, did she cling to what had once been and wish to protect him from himself? She-

Fast, chaotic, familiar faces _finally_ appeared. A glace over his shoulder, the exorcist tackled by Feitan before being thrown into Phinks' grip, fine Nen-threads lacing the surprised man in place, hands grasping the front of Hisoka's shirt willingly distracted. In-disguised Bungee Gum dropped from the exorcist. They could have him. Lan had confirmed Chrollo would come for him when he was ready- and let him have his time to scheme; Hisoka wanted to take him at his peak.

When his eyes fell back on Lan, she shoved against his chest, quick to regain the distance between them. Now his sole entertainment, she had forfeited that option. A series of advances and retreats, she gave up on distance to allow him to stand unreasonably close. Beautiful determination faltered with discomfort. Her eyes darting from his, two fingers lifted her chin to pull her attention back to him.

"What was dear Chrollo thinking, letting his little birdy out of her cage." She ripped his fingers from her face, her painted nails digging into his wrist. He used his height against her, raising his arm until she let go or dangle in the air. Freed, immediately his hand returned to grip her chin. He puckered her lips into a ridiculous pout. He leaned in, lips threatening hers. Then his eyes narrowed with another detail found. She was wearing nail polish _and_ makeup. He rarely saw her go through the effort, with the exception of the exam. Lace and makeup with tears and bruises, he didn't like the picture it painted. "Doesn't he know it's dangerous to let pets roam free?"

She grabbed his arm again, both hands pulling at his wrist like she wanted to escape a chokehold. Was gripping her chin too close to gripping her neck? He forced her head to the side, eyes on a particularly deep purple patch on her neck. She was lucky he wasn't covering one bruise with another.

A spasm in her right hand broke her silence. "He didn't plan for me to be here," she finally answered, voice strained with irritation and unease. Her cute glare remained.

"Do you really believe he had no part in your decision?" He sighed dramatically _because he had already pointed this small fact out_. "Oh, how cute, you do," he mocked, voice rising with false sweetness. "Darling, a few well-placed words will have you following his every order with the illusion of choice." He dropped her chin, smile flickering from existence. He didn't like stupid. Willful ignorance was just that- and perhaps worse. "You're slow to learn, it seems. Need another lesson?"

"No." Feet planted firm, a defiant child that didn't know better, she glared up at him. He would have to teach her again… Or put her out of her misery. Honestly, he would rather have her dead than a puppet. Not that there was much difference between the two. "I chose to be here," she repeated, desperate to believe she acted without Chrollo pulling strings.

"Did Chrollo tell you to offer me mercy?"

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. He may have mourned the lost view if she wasn't covered in marks. Chrollo did this just to aggravate him, which meant he knew Lan would be here. But for her to tauntingly wear so little, she meant to tease him too, didn't she? She wasn't an exhibitionist, much to his ongoing disappointment. "He promised to kill you in a way sure to dissatisfy you."

A valid concern. A one-on-one deathmatch would be giving him what he wanted, so Chrollo may refuse to play by unsaid rules. It was a risk, but the reward outweighed it heavily. Hisoka wanted this fight no matter the obstacles set before him. The thrill of the hunt leading to the carnage of its conclusion, he knew when he saw Chrollo that every risk taken would be rewarded tenfold.

His brief consideration of her concern, she repaid him by seeking escape. Edging a step back, he caught her arm in a very clear _you're not leaving quite yet_. He gave up the exorcist for this conversation, after all. She needed to be retaught a valuable lesson on trust before she sold her soul.

"Were your clothes meant to distract me?" A tug at her jacket sleeve exposed her shoulder. Her frown deepened, but she didn't flee. Instead she looked at his hand with Gyo to find nothing. The mocking bruise on her neck screamed to be prodded. "Always so anxious," he teased, fingertips brushing up her arm, "you almost seem afraid of me, fledgling. I'm not the one that left you with all these bruises." His nail dug into the hickey accusingly. Her lips pressed tight, body tense with his proximity to her neck. He may have given her a complex. "Come now, it's not like it," his eyes narrowed, voice dropping, "hurts." The point of his nail scraped at more than just skin. His brows rose with fascinated delight.

She mirrored his expression viciously. "You care an awful lot about who I go to bed with," she mocked, overly sweet voice his own. "Why did you let the exorcist go? I thought keeping track of him would be far more important than harassing me." Her victorious expression didn't balk even as he cleaned smeared makeup from his nail on her bra. She felt so proud of herself, tricking him with fake bruises over a distance and a few minutes. Makeup as deceit, must be repayment for his petty Texture Surprise prank. A genuine smile pulled his lips in an almost human expression of affection. "Are you _jealous_ , Hisoka?"

Chrollo was his first. _Lan_ was his first. In an infuriating coincidence lacking actual coincidence, they were stolen from him. He could be a bit jealous, couldn't he? He certainly wouldn't deny it, nor would he confirm it verbally. The momentary success of her trick was proof enough.

Not even a flinch as he reached out, his eyes narrowed in renewed satisfaction. He pat her head like the pet she was, sure to ruffle her hair into a nest. The returning fury in her eyes set his heart aflame. "Such a good girl," he praised, one sentence away from bringing out princess and promise to provoke more than expressions. She slapped his hand away, teasing the violence he wanted. "I had been so afraid the Fan Shi broke you."

She tensed, hiding her formerly mangled arm behind her. Broken toys and Hisoka, well, she understood. Has she lost use of it, he likely would have lost interest. He couldn't imagine her learning a different fighting style to compensate. At least, not to the same level. Intent to test lingering damage, she skittered back three steps for his every one.

Control broken, aura sparked. Time crawled. A sheen over skin to a layer of Ren to spikes of razor Hatsu, he reached to devour.

His fingers wrapping around her wrist, he squeezed to break. Her aura shifted, focused, razor edges' fighting the Nen over his hand. No blood yet drawn, he mocked, "Something wrong, darling?" She tugged at her right arm with growing fear. Rational fear with his falling expression. Unimpressed. Majorly disappointed. How she poured every bit of energy into protecting the damaged limb yet… "Your aura seems weaker than it once was." His other hand reached out to prove her overcompensation. Aura divided between his hands with hers focused should have removed fingers. The fact it didn't, he pulled her closer to punish.

A secondary source of Nen. Still hers, separate from the aura over her arm. The bird? Summoned now or hidden? Pulled close, body almost against his, she left no time. He whipped her arm to the side as the bird materialized. Much, _much_ larger than usual. He dropped Lan in favor of keeping his face. A wing crashing into his side pushed his feet through dirt, threatened skin and shredded fabric. A silent screech, it pursued. Lan followed. A well-placed strike knocked the bird back with wisps of aura escaping. He spun on his heel, contorted out of the way of Lan as her body erupted with sharpened aura. She overshot. Until her aura snapped into fox form to pursue, fangs bared.

He kicked the fox aside. She dismissed it before momentum took her with. Her speed had improved so immensely, his heart sung to pump blood lower. "So good," he cooed as she refused to flee, as she lunged, as she stepped into his arms. His fist slammed into her stomach. A sputtering cough, air knocked from her lungs, but he didn't feel bones break when they would have shattered before. "So, so good!" he repeated, bliss-filled. Even her enhancer skills improved. And here he thought she had only been working to get Chrollo hard. This may turn into more than playing if she didn't stop impressing him into a frenzy.

Her hand gripped his wrist as talons sunk into his shoulder. Damn bird. Using her hold against her, he pulled, kneed her in the stomach to disrupt shaky breaths. Twisting his torso tore the bird from his shoulder. His fist struck the creature to diminish its size and annoyance. He wanted to play with Lan, not her troublesome pets. It refused to flee, lashing out again and-

Pain in his side. Distracted, he let the bird latch onto his shoulder to tear a bloody gash. He looked down as Lan darted away, fox guarding her exit.

A knife remained in his side.

She had _stabbed him_. Nothing near fatal, of course. She was too nice to kill him, currently, it seemed. But still. Lan didn't use knives. She had aura that cut, why carry knives about? Chrollo had been a terrible influence on her.

He hit the bird away again, foot digging into the ground to propel him towards Lan. His vision swayed. He stood in place, bemused. Lan dismissed the fox, aura focused in her eyes as she continued backing away. The bird between them disappeared with In. He pulled the knife from his side, fingers going numb, pleasant sting of pain absent.

She had _poisoned_ him. Lan certainly didn't use poisons. An absolutely terrible influence indeed.

A rock to the cheek made him smile- and almost fall over. His muscles relaxed without permission.

"It's stone-plated cobra venom. While it'd normally stop a heart from beating, for us, if you find the right dose, it's an intense muscle relaxant." Us? Did she test it on herself first just to be sure? She certainly went through a lot of effort to deliver a useless warning. He felt flattered. "It'll wear off quickly with no lingering damage," she reassured, trying to hide that kindness behind nonchalance.

"How considerate." His words slurred. He sat on the ground before he fell over, a bit miffed that Lan would cheat and use poison to cut a fray short. He was truly annoyed that she made actual conversation— not taunts, not threats, an actual exchange of meaningful words- impossible. He was ready to have that heart-to-heart talk she wanted back on the train if it meant prying her from Chrollo's grip. He just couldn't help messing with her a bit first.

"I knew if you were just playing with me, you'd let me stab you," she added, voice losing the harsh edge. She held her right arm to her side, eyes to the ground. "You don't care. As long as you can keep fighting, as long as it's fun, you don't care how injured you are and that's…" Concern. From someone that had every reason to hate him, from someone who knew they were one fickle whim away from being tossed aside, he would never understand. But all the same, this concern for him of all things, he saw it. He saw what Chrollo wanted to possess. "Hisoka, don't fight Chrollo." The request ultimately fell on deaf ears, but the concern, that baffling, unnecessary concern…

The Spider would destroy her.

"Fledgling," he called as she turned away, "your Nen is gorgeous." The sincerest of compliments, he meant it. She had grown. Her potential now surpassed that of the fretful girl he had met in the Hunter Exam. It would be a shame if she ended up dead over unrequited love. She looked over her shoulder, expression miserable with his praise. "I want to fight you again." No tricks. No audience. Just the two of them alone with no one to distract them from each other. He should have kept it that way from the beginning.

She predictably ignored him, continuing to wander back to her keeper and cage. He could have stopped her, grabbed her with Bungee Gum and made her sit until her poison wore off, but she didn't seem to be in the mood to discuss Chrollo as something more dangerous to her than him. Holding her captive wasn't how he wanted to break her will, either.

Troublesome little thing, his fledgling. Realistically, she still wasn't worth the effort, but damned if he would have her life taken without permission. 

* * *

Lan sat on the ground, sleeve over her nose as fire burned away the wooden effigy used in the exorcism. Strange ability… Before proceeding, she had demanded a full explanation of this Abengane's Nen. He could have been some sort of assassin for all she knew. After all, Chrollo had enemies more than the Chain User. Probably. Okay, definitely. She just didn't like to think about it, so she didn't.

Other than obliging her request, the exorcist had been the perfect captive. He worked quickly and efficiently, the exact behavior of someone smart enough not to anger the Phantom Troupe. This Abengane, he had been so behaved, in fact, that Machi had released her threads long before Lan arrived at their rendezvous point. (Never mind the awkward exchange she had once again shared with Machi. Spouting out 'it was makeup' instead of a greeting, her flustered mumbling, and her pitiful attempt at thanking Machi for saving her arm— which the seamstress brushed off by saying she did it for Danchou- Lan successfully embarrassed herself. At least Feitan and Phinks weren't there to see. The kid matching no description Chrollo had given her had witnessed it, though.)

Abengane nodded to Chrollo, confirmation of his payment received.

She stood, determined to kill the smoke. While Chrollo stared after the exorcist, smitten with his ability, Lan kicked dirt onto smoldering wood and ash. Nemmi happily helped, dumping a pile of dirt and soot on her boots. Stupid overgrown wing... She wondered how long it would take for him to return to normal. If he threw a fit, he could _accidentally_ behead someone with a careless wing flap.

Today had been the trial run to an improved Nemmi. Acknowledging him as part of her, it allowed him to temporarily hide in her body without rejoining, while also allowing her to still use Arri. Hidden with In, used in tandem with Arri, spotting him within her was near impossible. The perfect surprise attack or defense. The only drawback happened to be the longer he hid, the more of her aura he absorbed, and the larger he grew.

And absorb he had. She had forgotten just how much Hisoka liked to talk about nothing.

Exorcist out of sight, Chrollo turned to her, genuine smile on his face. He looked cute, almost boyishly so, when genuinely happy. She smiled back, if just a bit. He was getting his Nen and friends back. Even if she had to force herself, she would act happy for him. Her loss shouldn't dampen his victory.

Then she saw it again. Her nose scrunched at the unforeseen consequence of the exorcism. "That is the most disgusting _thing_ I've ever seen." The condition attached to the miraculous ability to exorcise Nen happened to take a physical form. A horrific form. The thing stuck to Chrollo's chest reminded her of a wrinkly leech with demon red eyes sunken into a baby face _except somehow worse_. Every bit of viscera she'd seen didn't compare to the horror of this thing. Her stomach turned just looking at it. "If that thing EVER touches me, I'll throw up."

Chrollo poking it made her queasy. "It is rather unpleasant," he said despite the absolute indifference in his expression, "however, I expected there to be a price. Carrying this creature about is insignificant compared to the burden of that curse." She was sure the 'exorcist' just swapped one curse for another. Her still scrunched nose as she stared at the thing, Chrollo, good mood persisting, asked, "Unless you meant you were only attracted to me for my looks."

"Unfortunately, no." Maybe. There would be no sex as long as she could see that thing, forbid it actually touch her. But what else did she like about him? Confidence bordering arrogance, intelligent book nerd and criminal mastermind, a calm observer, an all-powerful force, a near-complete mystery, the unprompted list went on further than she liked. She'd hate to give it more thought.

Her eyes darted to the side as he stepped beside her. For the first time, she desperately wanted him to put a shirt on. That wouldn't get rid of the problem, obviously there would be an ugly lump under the fabric, but anything to not have almost glowing red eyes glaring judgement at her soul. Abengane had mentioned the creature being affected by the person that laid the curse. The Chain User must despise Chrollo with every fiber of his being.

She wondered why. Chrollo likely deserved it, but she had never asked why. She was afraid of his answer.

A hand on the small of her back, Chrollo convinced her to walk with him. She followed, not one to pass up on an opportunity to not embarrass herself. They had both stolen vehicles to get here, but Lan wasn't about to offer taking hers. It had nothing to do with the missing mirror. Nope. She definitely hadn't lost it to a truck on the highway while distracted. Not at all. She had been paying full attention to driving even while Nemmi pulled petty pranks on Abengane.

Comfortable silence was cut short.

"How was Hisoka?"

"Affectionate." For him. She could make out his twisted sense of affection in the way he warned her not to be manipulated. Sure, everything was for his selfish gain in the end, but she could see it. Didn't mean she wanted any part of it. Her word-choice was an effective slap in the face for Chrollo. Jerk asked just to show he knew she had talked with him. Hisoka was still wrong, though. She chose to go. Chrollo would rather she forget Hisoka's existence entirely, punctuated with the promise his life had ended upon betrayal. "And stubborn," she answered anyway.

"Does he still wish to fight me?"

"Yeah." There. Let his ego delight in being right. Protective or possessive, she didn't want his opinion on the matter. He didn't understand, and she didn't want to explain. "He didn't listen." Just laughed in her face. As expected. But success, maybe, hadn't been her goal so much as the attempt. To say she had tried would be the only peace of mind she got. Talking to him was difficult. Sorting through the twist of emotions she could hardly describe would be impossible. Everything unresolved, she hoped it would die with him.

Experience told her it wouldn't.

"Forget-"

"Chrollo, shut up." While he raised his eyebrows, he didn't seem the least bit offended. No, for some reason he seemed to like her telling him off when she'd had enough of his bullshit. She resisted rolling her eyes, sourly adding, "We're not talking about him anymore." Back to a forbidden subject with him. "He's my problem." Her issues with him were her own; Chrollo's input just annoyed her because he one-hundred percent had an agenda.

"I apologize, Lanfen," he said, tone hushed. His hand sild to her side, bringing her as close as he dared. She leaned into him in defeat, wanting to be closer but this curse of an exorcism… "It was rather petty of me to ask what I already knew to be true."

What… What did she do with that? She didn't get apologized to very often. At least, he sounded sincere and gained little from calling out his own bad behavior. Except her favor. Which may ruin the sincerity. "Whatever." Today was managing to make her head hurt. And as she said, this was no longer a subject up for debate. "Let's just go."

"Where?"

The innocent question beat her over the head with her horrible aimlessness. "I don't know. Wherever." _You want_. Nemmi hissed _dangerous. Dangerous to allow him to control your fate_. She knew that but… How much more time did she realistically have with him? Vacation plans weren't the decisions she wanted to avoid.

The Phantom Troupe was. 

* * *

Agnello's heel ground smoldering ash into plush carpet, abandoned cigarette butt just another in the pile at his feet. The silence egged on his boredom. Attending to business elsewhere, all solemn with a vacant stare, whatever the hell Miwa meant by that, it was taking too damn long.

He didn't trust the bitch. Didn't know jack about her. He could see she had something driving her, the only thing to light fire in otherwise dead eyes the vow to eliminate the Phantom Troupe. But that's it. Getting her _name_ had been a chore. If the topic wasn't the Troupe, she lived up to her corpse look: listless, quiet, and boring. Waste of a nice body, in his opinion. But her Nen, just _damn_ , she must have been a hell of a Hunter before the Phantom Troupe fucked her over. He'd admit that he stood no chance in a brawl with high-level Nen users, but Miwa, she could do some damage. They needed more allies with destructive Nen like hers.

And not that kid.

Now on a tangent and out for entertainment, Agnello sauntered over to the kitchenette table, sure to scrap the chair on tile as he sat down. He leaned over, hand under his chin to blatantly stare… To no reaction. Kid kept scraping pen to paper.

Agnello squinted hard, trying to figure it out again. Navy hair would be down to the shoulders without the tie, but so messy and unkept, girls put in more effort than this. Then again, the two hairclips were girly. Mid-range pitched voice and awkward teenage lankiness did nothing to help. The oversized sweater hid anything more useful. He didn't feel like losing a hand over this. Miwa also solely said _they_ instead of something helpful. Drove Agnello insane, the not knowing. Especially since he sort of liked the androgynous look on girls.

"You a boy or a girl?"

"You a snake or a chicken?"

"Have a name?"

"No."

The immediate snap-backs made him laugh. Brat. "Miwa seemed reluctant to leave you alone." _With me_. He was barely allowed to speak with the kid— not that they would answer with anything but sass. They pretended to ignore him again, pen scratching on paper until it finally tore a hole. Nasty habit, ruining their scribbles at the slightest mistake. "She your mother?" The two looked nothing alike, but he'd seen the brat draw her a dozen times over, the same hairclips in her wavy hair that the kid wore now.

They crumpled torn paper, tossing it on the floor.

"What's your deal?" Kid had more angst than the average teenager. And anger. Maybe that's why Miwa kept a close watch. One wrong word might make the kid snap. If they hadn't already. "What'd the Phantom Troupe do to piss you off?"

Venom yellow eyes glared into his damn soul with revulsion. Always did, like his face was the second most revolting thing in existence. They had the decency to pull their sweater collar down to speak without the muffle. "Why are you here?" they asked instead of answering, motive a not-so-grand secret anyway. He bet the woman they kept drawing was killed by Spiders. Or their whole family. A kid this age didn't end up hunting criminals without a messed-up childhood. All the same, he repaid silence with silence. "You're mafia."

Agnello raised a brow at the bitterness in their tone. He didn't take them as some moral justice seeker out for all criminals no matter the scale of the crime. The mafia and the Phantom Troupe were specific.

"Revenge for Yorknew?" The wicked curl of their lips stiffened his back. For a second. They were just a kid. A non-threat. Didn't matter if the prick of their bloodlust felt more like knives than pins. Brat's smile shifted to amused, just messing with him for a laugh. "You work for multiple families, loyalty dictated by pay. So, no, Agnello Abate is much too self-centered to care about that. You may be irritated on principle, but never enough to take the risk of direct revenge."

Agnello narrowed his eyes at the dig at his bravery. He was smart, not cowardly. No one in their right mind would go after the Phantom Troupe alone. Not unless they had a death wish.

"You want revenge for someone not something," they continued, too smug, face very punch-able. "A family member. A parent or sibling, more specifically."

Agnello again answered with silence and a matched glare. Himself, the kid, probably Miwa, they all had the same motive, didn't they? Revenge for family lost? So why bother bringing this up the rare occasion Miwa left them alone to talk freely? Somewhere, Miwa and the kid's goals didn't align.

"What do you think of Meteor City?"

Meteor City?

Realization struck. Meteor City. The connection. The invitation. "It's a shithole full of vermin." All that hatred converged on one point. Crush one roach and another five would appear to replace it. Best to get rid of the source of the infestation, right?

Satisfied, a small contented smile appeared as pen scratched paper. "Good. Miwa doesn't understand the necessity."

Fairweather allies, he would have _never_ imagined that. Agnello chose to be a freelance hitman for a damn reason, and tenuous relationships were it. Can't be backstabbed by no one. Still, to play his cards right, if the kid had a solid plan to eliminate more than the Troupe… Place could use a reminder of who they belonged to.

"Have a name yet?"

They pulled the sweater collar back over their mouth, eyes darting to the side either debating or embarrassed. The tip of the pen tapped paper. A whisper, "Haven." sealed the deal.


	44. Extinguish: Enflame

_April_

The exorcism was taking a surprisingly long time. Though also not long enough. Lan had decided that the change in status quo was positively horrifying and would prefer him to never has his Nen back. Which also made her feel adequately awful.

But the longer the exorcism dragged on, the more she wanted to cling to him. To the him now, without title and power.

After all, they were having such fun playing crime and domestic partners.

The first stop on this finale of his Nen-less state was a heist, of course. A museum, but a museum of the worst sort: a museum of anatomically anomalous bodies. She had almost thrown up upon entering. The reek of formaldehyde left an impression _that Chrollo still somehow coaxed her to ignore_. They proceeded to a sale held by a former purchaser and admirer of the museum. (Reluctantly, if the wailing of the former owner meant anything. Suspiciously, the same girl that she had _helped_ Chrollo track down in Yorknew. He smiled innocently, no hint of remorse, saying he stole something sure to crumble the Nostrade family.) In the end, Chrollo had made off with some gross brain slice and a jewel-encrusted skull, albeit he complained some eyes had been absent. She had struggled to tell if he meant eyes with or without a body attached.

Since they did something he wanted to do, and because being in public with that repulsive exorcism worm on his chest was both awkward and attention-drawing, she had roped him into some Hunter work. She first took him to see the ghost finches while the dull bioluminescence of their spring displays lasted. He loved them.

And, currently, they were wrapping up a visit to the griffon hawk reserve. Chrollo… didn't like the reserve as much. Day one, minute one, Jingly had pounced on him, face-planting him into the mud. The next day, one of the adult hawks, Tweets, had grabbed him by the collar and threatened to fly off with him. Chrollo had to slip out of his shirt to escape before Tweets had the chance to drop him from skyscraper heights. He happened to land in another mud puddle. Actually, no matter the hawk, nor the praise to their beauty he offered, they somehow always left him haggard and mud-covered. Lan thought it was hilarious.

The last few days, Chrollo had stayed in the hotel room reading instead of playing punching bag for her hawks. Still, it was nice, in the oddest way, to come _home_ from _work_ to him. They were like a normal couple, which may be exactly the point.

Lan glanced beside her, Chrollo's nose buried in his second or third book of the day.

The normalcy, the comfort of routine, for something she rarely had and often scoffed at as boring, she was enjoying it. There was no sense of impending peril to her continued existence. No one in pursuit with the intent to kill—that she knew of, anyway. No resolute need to train until her body threatened breaking along with her mind. Maybe Auntie was onto something with her longing for Lan to settle down. That simple something being peace.

But peace was unobtainable for the likes of her and Chrollo. Her restlessness would prevent her from being home-bound for long. It always had. Her nerves infected the little peace she had now, the future looming. Chrollo's life, the more she learned, the more she saw, the more she understood that he was absolutely beyond redemption. His life revolved around the Phantom Troupe, and peace and the Troupe were antonyms. A place with him yet apart from the Phantom Troupe… She doubted its existence under Chrollo's mindset and she was even more doubtful that she could change his mind.

This lie, even if it was just an elaborate game of pretend between them, she would miss it dearly. She would miss him dearly, assuming she could pry herself from his side. And she should. The Phantom Troupe…

She slipped off the couch at an incoming call. Anything to distract her from depressing thoughts.

A boat icon. Morel. Before daring to answer to her mentor, she left the room, Chrollo's eyes never leaving his book. Maybe Morel had more work for her instead of a lecture. Should she find a god and pray?

She went into the bathroom, closing the door before slumping against it.

"Yes?"

"The Hunter Association has called on me for a mission." The lack of reprimand for no greeting followed by no greeting of his own straightened her back. "Lanfen, keep your mouth shut and listen to everything I say before making a decision. Understood?" When she kept quiet under the assumption he would keep talking, he asked again, demanding affirmation, "Understood?"

"Yeah, sure" she mumbled, now completely unsure. Her stomach wanted to knot at his tone, teasing edges lost to grave severity. What sort of mission could set Morel on edge? He usually laughed off everything like the One Star Hunter he was.

"The NGL has been overrun with Chimera Ants." She opened her mouth only to be talked over with added information. " _Not_ the little bugs you've seen before. The reports I have are saying larger than a person, as well as more intelligent than their smaller brethren. And more dangerous. They can't be allowed to spread beyond the NGL. The-"

"No." No, no, _no_. This sounded like an extermination mission and Lan didn't exterminate. Not even bugs. Not even bugs that she didn't particularly like. And these Chimera Ants, to take such a drastic size change, they needed to know how and why not crush and eliminate. "No, you can't just go-"

"Lanfen, listen." He sounded tired. Like he had argued this point again and again. And he would have if he had asked Knuckle first. That, and Morel himself would argue against extermination of a species with his dying breath if there were another option. "If the ants spread, it will be a catastrophe for every other living creature."

"I-" She chewed on her lip.

Chimera Ants were veracious. To feed a colony of ants of this size, they would devour _everything_ in their path. The colony's queen would pass on the traits of devoured. The NGL was filled to the brim with people without any means to stop an invasion. Morel was right. This situation would breed a catastrophe if left unchecked.

But, if she went… She absently stared at the scars lining her right arm. No. No, if she went, she would hinder more than help. Right?

Nemmi chirped at her, head tilted as he hopped to her feet.

Wiping out an invasion force of ants, she couldn't imagine she'd handle it well. Being thrust back into the constant stress of enemies at every turn, no rest to be had… She didn't trust her arm to hold out through the mission. The mental taxation would push her back over the edge she had just clawed her way over.

She slid to the floor, calling Nemmi to her lap. Petting his head did little to calm her.

Were those… Were those just excuses? She could force herself to see the necessity of the mission. They were just exterminating a nest of overgrown ants, not _all_ of them. It's not like she had many qualms about slaughtering Virgil's Chimera Ants. And her arm more or less worked. She could fight around it well enough, and what were a couple of ants to a One Hunter and his apprentices?

She was just making excuses. She just didn't want to go because of Chrollo. Right? His ultimatum… The exorcism's end drew near to take him from her. She was just being selfish. She should go. No matter the toll, she should go. She already had her break, anything more was just avoidance.

Not going may finally prove her unworthy of their kindness.

"You have until May 1st," Morel said. "If you're not in the Republic of Rokario by then, don't show up."

Harsh in delivery, but she understood. Hesitance was a death sentence.

The dead silence of a call ended, she held her phone to her ear longer than necessary. Nemmi headbutted her hand with the hollow comfort of self-said reassurances.

Eventually, she forced herself up. She dragged her feet on her way back to the living room.

No use mourning the loss of false peace.

Nemmi reclaimed her lap the moment she sat down next to Chrollo. Personal space be damned, she stole Chrollo's hand from his book as she hugged his arm to her chest and pressed her nose into his shoulder. His glance away from his book asked if something was wrong. She shook her head to dismiss concern.

This wasn't something to bother him with. At least not to the point of asking advice. He would just offer a solution that she didn't want to admit she already knew.

He would just tell her that she would make a great Hunter if she would focus on that instead of him.

* * *

Morel entered with a storm cloud. "Lanfen won't be coming with," he announced, statement as neutral as they came.

Knuckle nodded, agreeing with that emotional limbo.

He figured she wouldn't. He didn't want to go for presumably the same reason. Except he also chose to go for that reason. He needed to see for himself that there were no other options. If there were, like hell he would go through with the extermination, but if there weren't… At least he got to be part of that call. While Lanfen would have argued against extermination with him 'til the last moment and then some, he felt relieved she decided not to come.

From the little she had told him, from what he had later pieced together, she desperately needed a break after the whole Fan Shi fiasco. An actual break, not training herself into the ground to make up for an injury and a loss.

Because that injury to her arm, he had found the cause. After looking up the Fan Shi, spending a small fortune on information behind paywalls on the Hunter site, he found a member that had frequented Heaven's Arena. Watching Adalei tear apart one of her opponents in a recorded match, it made his stomach churn and he had a strong stomach. Just not for unrestrained violence and sadistic brutality.

Thinking about how that woman would have treated Lanfen in a fight made his blood boil with directionless rage because there was absolutely nothing he could do after-the-fact. Nothing but think of how he had let her leave the aquarium without him. Nothing but try to help Lanfen move past the trauma and keep her from more.

She had changed. She was acting more volatile and distant than ever. He couldn't tell how much of it was the Fan Shi, but he also didn't trust her boyfriend. She was someone to fall back into a pattern of abuse and that guy radiated bad energy.

"Just leave her," Shoot muttered, sweating bullets and shaking like a leaf. For as much as he wanted to go, he was nervous of what they'd find in the NGL. Knuckle was too. They were walking into a place ravaged by the ants for who-knows-how-long. It took the damage spilling out to neighboring countries and leaked reports from within the NGL to finally get them some help. For that help to be a summons by the Hunter Association, the peril of the situation surpassed what the global powers could handle alone.

Morel nodded absently as he looked out the window. "I just wanted to ask her."

Knuckle knew it. Morel knew she would refuse. He mostly asked her to let her know why they had disappeared. If she found out by stumbling on some article or something, she would feel betrayed. The three of them going on an extermination mission undermined just about everything they stood for. He also liked to think that she would be worried, gravity of the situation considered. As competent of a group as they were, if the mission went south…

He slammed his fist down on the table, startling Shoot, catching Morel's attention. No negative talk! "We're gonna go kick some ass, damn it!"

* * *

The door burst open, Roeis' shoes loud on tile floor as he stomped his way to Isma's desk. He unceremoniously dropped a file folder in front of his mentor, the few papers spilling out, the edge of a photo poking out mockingly. Isma's eyes slowly drifted away from his prior work to Roeis.

"I know who killed Bando and Lino." No hesitation, no doubt, he'd make Isma understand that he hadn't connected unrelated points into the picture he wanted. Isma opened the disheveled folder, staring silently at the two pictures of the same woman. "It was Lanfen Paijin." The first picture, Lanfen as she often appeared as a Hunter, black hair brushing her shoulders and drawn on moles. The second, taken from Heaven's Arena, of brown hair in an undercut and one mole under her left eye. Her face brought an angry chill to his bones. How they had met while hunting D2 suspects, in that nauseating room of sliced bodies and spattered blood… Through grit teeth, he said, "I'm sure she killed them."

She had killed Bando and Lino in Devana. He was sure. So damn sure.

Isma's silence prompted explanation.

"Bando and Lino were tracking a blacklist target by the name of Virgil," he began, shuffling through papers to find the picture of the pale black-haired man with glasses sliding down his nose. "This Virgil, aside from stealing those…" _Shit. Something ants, what was it?_ He tried to read the report upside-down.

"Chimera ants," Isma supplied, not even looking at the report. That made Roeis' hope sink like a rock.

"In addition to that," he continued, desperate, "Virgil was a member of a mercenary group called the Fan Shi. The Fan Shi were a division of the Paijin." It didn't take much to connect the dots. How Isma could ignore this… "Before they were murdered, Bando and Lino, they said they found some way to lure Virgil to them. That Virgil had been chasing after someone." The last time they had spoken- It'd been right before they tried to capture this target! Lino had been so excited to catch his first big bounty. After months of training beside Roeis, after studying and memorizing and gathering all the information on criminal organizations he could, Isma had decided to allow Lino to team-up with Bando. And Bando, he was a past student too, blacklist hunting solo for two years. "They were sure it'd work."

His fingers curled into a tight fist at his side.

"But she killed them," he spat. "The wounds-" He swallowed down revulsion with the break in his voice. The crime scene, the evidence, the bodies, he almost wished he had never investigated them. It never left his mind. Seeing his friends like that, how could it? Lino had exposed-bone gashes to his arms and leg, and his face, god, his face… "The wounds on Lino were consistent with the drug traffickers' wounds." As well as the scores of mafia associates killed in a trail leading east to a train derailment near Cenvien— caused by Sybil Delphi, yet another Fan Shi member and someone undeserving of a Hunter license.

"And Bando?"

"A poisoned knife." Roeis stared Isma down for daring to suggest that that invalidated all the other evidence he had. Isma remained unyielding. "She probably had someone with her! What difference would that make!?" Birds of a feather flock together. Other odd weapons on the murder spree to Cenvien, they were probably her ally. Isma understood that, but… "That doesn't invalidate all the evidence I have," he argued helplessly. Isma had already decided. He wouldn't rescind that decision no matter how much Roeis complained.

He gathered his file folder from the desk. Isma refused to acknowledge anything in it as evidence against Lanfen; a stack of old information and throw-away theories, he would sweep it into the trash with Roeis' patience. He could only imagine how much worse his other working theory would make the conversation. Merin Gerralin, a political exile with information on corruption in the Mitene Union, along with his bodyguards, had been found with similar wounds. (Though the motive, the theft of the damned amulet that the news couldn't shut up about for a solid week while burying the real tragedy, it didn't match. That said, her motive seemed violence for the sake of violence and nothing more complex.)

"Accusing a Hunter of murdering another Hunter is a serious allegation, Roeis," Isma said, now trying to calm him down like he was overreacting to the situation. How did this not eat at him? They were his students! He should care that the murderer ran free. "A crime like this needs more than superficial and circumstantial evidence." Acknowledging that he also suspected her incited more frustration.

"We need to do _something_ ," Roeis snapped. "She's a dangerous monster with a license to kill. If we don't catch her on this, then-"

"Roeis." The stern look with his tone, Roeis very reluctantly shut his mouth, folder and papers crunching in his hands. "There is a process to justice that must be followed, or it will become persecution without reason nor morality."

"I know." _But the Association lets criminals run wild._ Lanfen and Sybil were just two of many. If the system was corrupt, then how could there be justice? Isma would say change the system, but to change the Association, to pry away enough control to alter lacking procedures and lenient punishments, it would take time. Time that would allow people like this to continue killing without consequence.

Roeis turned on his heel to storm out of Isma's office. He'd try reasoning with him again after calming down and gathering more concrete evidence. As soon as he had Isma convinced, they could use his Two Star status to quicken the process.

Though if Isma would have let him use his ability on Lanfen, he would have already had a damn confession.

* * *

_July_

Chrollo's attention refused to stay on his book. Not because of Lanfen, or, at least, not completely. Certainly not by her fault. The opposite, in fact. If he quit glancing at her, he would have found something else to distract himself with- albeit nothing else would be as interesting nor pleasing.

After a mix of conservation work and criminal mischief, they had retreated to the Padokean mountains. It was easier to hide the monstrosity still attached to his chest under layers of clothes- while Lan positively hated seeing the creature, she seemed content looking at him in puffy winter clothes, silly girl. Yet their time in Padokea, now over three weeks… Their experiment in living together with false normalcy had been pleasant, he supposed. Long-term it would grow tiresome, as neither of them would do well with this quiet constant, but, for now, it was enjoyable.

They had rarely left the apartment, with exception to library excursions and meals. Lanfen had pointed out that neither of them could cook if there were more than three ingredients. She also noticed he only pretended to have a refined palate; apparently eating only unseasoned eggs and burnt toast a few days in a row had clued her in. Not that she was much better, with her canned fruits and pickled vegetables. A fact so innocuous and insignificant, he didn't understand why, when it was her, it was suddenly precious information worth remembering.

Mostly, he read. As did Lanfen, but she also made numerous phone calls and spent a fair amount of time on a laptop cataloguing information gathered on their ghost finch outing. She could be such a studious girl when she felt like it.

Tangential thoughts, the lack of focus, he should go lie down before his body decided it had enough of his resistance. But, instead, he asked, "Did you go to school?" He imagined she would have hated it. Too structured for someone that worked in chaotic bursts. Yet he was curious, he supposed, if only because formal education was foreign.

"Auntie tried," she answered with a flicker of her eyes to his before she looked back to her phone. "If I didn't like the subject, I found other things to entertain myself with. Like Nemmi stealing and breaking things. Or I would just sneak out." He could only imagine the havoc a bored child with Nen could create. Aside from using it to secure things he had wanted, he certainly would have terrorized Meteor City for his own amusement. "That's why I had to stop going. I almost got the police involved when the teachers couldn't find me." She lowered her phone, turning towards him to give him more attention, questions sure to follow. "Auntie gave up after that. She knew I would do fine learning on my own, anyway. She was just trying to get me to socialize with kids instead of crows." She frowned before tentatively asking, "Does Meteor City…?" She trailed off, unable to phrase it inoffensively enough.

"No." Not in the sense of modern society. "Nothing so formal. Trades and skills, if one was lucky to find a willing mentor." Machi had an apprenticeship with tailors before later dabbling in medicine. Kortopi had worked under a potter before a black-market dealer decided his talents were suited for forgery. Uvogin had been doing construction work before deciding the mafia offered more benefits. "Most of us were illiterate into our mid-teens," he added. Machi, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Liang, and, hesitantly, himself, had learned at a younger age than the rest. Pakunoda and Liang because they were left in Meteor City, not born there.

"I thought the mafia may teach their assassins. That was expecting too much of them, I guess."

It was. He almost volunteered that the mafia considered them fodder as much as trash. They were sent to do tasks too dangerous for their pampered hitmen. If they died, they died. The promise of wealth kept the replacements lining up. Only the exceptional survived. Fewer clawed their way into a higher position. It didn't take long for them to learn the mafia was no salvation.

"You learned everything on your own, then," she said, sounding impressed while somehow proud.

That… that wasn't true. He had no reason to correct her, and it was useless information that he shouldn't bother remembering. But, if it was in fact useless information, he should have no reason _not_ to share it with her.

"I learned to read from an eccentric old man that collected useless baubles." She clung to every trivial word like it was precious. She felt the same, then. Even an insignificant fact became significant if it was about him. "For useless trinkets, he traded away his knowledge and food to children and invalids." Chrollo never understood the old man's kindness, because his trades were just that. Offering help through the guise of a trade allowed for more pride than begging. Chrollo had asked him, once, why he had bothered teaching him to read; he was no one important, just a bastard child without a name. The old man claimed that every life had value, that he wanted to atone for the sins he committed in his youth when he didn't see that. Chrollo didn't believe him. "He never offered a name." He was someone Chrollo should have forgotten ages ago upon his death.

The conversation lulled as he contemplated the ceiling.

Lanfen offered further distraction as she leaned against him, returning to playing with her phone. The invasion of personal space, neither of them cared anymore. He occasionally found it inconsequential, though admittedly enjoyed it more often than not. Human contact, such a strange thing for him to find pleasant. And while once she had overreacted to his every touch, her reluctance wore thin as he became familiar. The consequence of the exorcism, he missed the freedom of impulsively pulling her against him- not only in bed, either. Right now, for instance, he would have loved to put his arm over her shoulders to bring her closer.

Was it wrong that when she initiated contact he felt a surge of warmth? Maybe he was just sick longer than he thought.

His stare and the complete lack of page-turning drew Lanfen's attention back to him. She opened her mouth only to close it again, her brow furrowing. Maybe he looked like death. He felt like it, sweat on his brow and a dull headache fogging his mind.

"Do you not feel well?" She shifted, tucking her legs under herself to lean close before raising an arm. After an unsure pause, hesitant to innocently touch bare skin, she brushed aside the hair sticking to his forehead. Her palm cool against his skin, he couldn't help leaning into her touch. That, and the concern in her expression, he adored it. "You have a fever," she needlessly reported, withdrawing her hand while swinging her legs back over the end of the couch. A little more delirious, and he might have put her hand back. His impulse control demanded to die with his concentration.

"I do," he confirmed just as needlessly.

"Are you sick or is it the exorcism or…?"

"Perhaps."

Her brows pinched together.

"The exorcism," he clarified. He held his hand in front of him, looking for a sheen of aura only to find none. This heat felt similar to the rapid release of aura during Nen baptism. The intensity, the fever heat that was absent during Nen baptism, it may be the fact he was already a high-level user. "Or, perhaps, not," he muttered under his breath. The creature remained on his chest, presumably as enraged as usual. While a fascinating dilemma, it hurt to think. Musing seemed to be his limit.

"Go to bed." Not a polite command, he raised his eyebrows at her. He doubted he could sleep with her still awake. The slightest noise would wake him. "I'll be quiet," she quickly promised, well aware his sleeping habits were somehow worse than hers. She narrowed her eyes at an empty space on the floor. " _Nemmi_ will be quiet." A scratch cut across carpet, petulance assumed. If he told her no, he would be the petulant child…

"I will lie down." A compromise. Vaguely. He would just continue with his scattered thoughts. He set a hand on her knee, her attention shooting to it before back to his face. An obvious act with a dramatic inflection change and pleading eyes, he _innocently_ asked, "May I rest my head on your lap?"

"O-okay." Her voice rose higher to betray her.

He had intended and succeeded in flustering her for his amusement, but, unexpectedly, or, perhaps, it was to be expected, felt content as he rest his head on her lap. Fingers soothingly combing through his hair made his eyes slip closed. Tender touches and human connection, she should stop.

He didn't want to lose this salvation and damnation. Yet, his attention, his devotion, should not be divided between the Spider and a lover. If he told her he loved her, she would probably join, thus ending this hopeless debate. His last resort and final attempt. He was a liar, so what would be one more lie if it coerced her to stay? Because it would be a lie…

His eyes opened to find sunlight absent, fever subsided. A few seconds had been hours of heavy sleep. His head still on her lap, her hand on his shoulder, she never deserted him. To fall dead asleep on her, he undeniably trusted her. Trusted her with his life as he trusted the Spiders.

For her undue devotion, he decided to free her instead of selfishly basking in her warmth. Sitting up, through the corner of his eye, dim light drew his attention.

The pale blue glow, dark eyes glaring judgment, feathers rising, Nemmi looked at him with disdain.

* * *

Her drumming heart lodged in her throat. She froze, pins and needles stabbing deep into her skin despite the absolute absence of ill intent. The proximity and strength alone were enough.

Terrifying. In every way.

The surge of aura had summoned a book to his open hand. Skill Hunter, he had called it months ago. Right now, she doubted he would have answered, Lan forgotten at his side, his attention monopolized by each page he turned and observed, wicked light in his eyes warping the small quirk of his lips.

She had forgotten that he had never used his Nen in front of her. Not to this magnitude. Not even in Yorknew. His presence and title were enough to paralyze, to bring fearful reverence, to break resistance. She never provoked him beyond calm control. She had understood, to witness it, would mean her death. Chrollo Lucilfer terrified her to her very core because, by comparison, she was nothing.

This was the monster tearing away its human disguise to remind her. Her power over him had never been anything more than an illusion of circumstance. Choice? Hisoka was right. She never had any. Whatever Chrollo wanted, he could take. She wanted to trust him, she really did, but like this… His Nen… Every primal instinct screamed for her to run before she was crushed. How he seemed to forget her existence so quickly, doubt and fear wanted to overwhelm.

Moments or minutes became an eternity of quaking breaths and thundering heartbeats. When he snapped the book closed, the silence following stopped time entirely. Then, like it was never there, Skill Hunter disappeared along with the awe-inspiring dread of his Nen.

Then he remembered her, studying her before quietly, calmly, saying, "I didn't mean to startle you." Carefully he found her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in apology. His attention went to Nemmi, feathers ruffled, talons buried in the floor. "I thought you knew."

"I-" She did. The creature had disappeared from his chest as his fever broke. She had asked Nemmi to leave In to confirm, when Chrollo awoke, that his Nen had returned. She knew. She had just wanted to be wrong. "I didn't expect you to sit up so quickly," she admitted, swallowing down residual fear. For scaring her heart to her throat, his affection calmed her just as quickly. It was an accident. He meant no harm. She believed that. "Your Nen is back," she said, that fact sinking in to swing her from fear to dejection. Or maybe it was that all along.

"It is."

Two simple words ripped at her heart.

A tug to her hand, he invited her closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her arms wrapped tight around his chest. For longer than she should have, she held onto him and the fleeting comfort of his embrace. Her eyes burned with tears that refused to fall. She shouldn't be so upset over something she saw coming for months.

But goodbyes were meant to be on her terms. And this wasn't.

His hand found her cheek, coaxing her from his shoulder. His lips pressed to hers with the softness of their first kiss. She choked back a sound. A goodbye kiss, tears threatened to fall again. His lips left hers too soon, her fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt near tearing. Dark eyes were her only sight as his forehead pressed to hers.

His words against her lips a whisper, he said, "Lanfen, I-"

Silence.

He cut himself off, almost recoiling from her, the color draining from his face until he was paler than when he had been fever-stricken. Her entire body tensed, the syllable that died on his lips stopping her heart. Another second of hesitation, severe shock brushed aside, Chrollo pulled her face to his chest. His hand on the back of her head, his lips pressed to her hair, muffled, he substituted, "I will miss you."

A lingering second, but still too soon, he stood, his hand on her shoulder. He held her in place like he expected her to fling herself at his feet and cling to his legs like a child. Instead, she remained frozen by unsaid words. She could barely force herself to spare a final glance at his quickly retreating form. The reverse cross on his back as he walked through the door, abandoning everything else, was the last sight scorched into her memory.

Nemmi hopped onto the couch, frantic as she stared at the closed door. He found her lap, tugging at her shirt until his beak snipped through cloth.

"He wasn't…" Lan mumbled, swallowing down confusion, sadness, anger, everything. He wasn't one for sentimentality, but he knew she certainly adored pretty words of affirmation. To start and stop one deadly phrase… For his expression to falter so severely...

He had meant to lie.

She could only see two reasons why he hadn't. One, the more realistic, pessimistic, reason, he had meant to lie to convince her into the Spider but then saw such a lie would obliterate everything they had built if later found false. A small kindness, to preserve the trust she misplaced with him, it was pathetic she considered accepting so little. Two, the hopeful romantic's reason, that he realized that lie was actually a startling half-truth. Yet, again, a half-truth wasn't reason enough to give herself away. Because she didn't believe he meant it. Not fully. He wouldn't allow himself with the ultimatum in place.

"Nemmi, I might-" Her voice broke with a pained laugh.

Reason number three: he lied because he knew exactly how to plant an idea in her head. Because now she was actually considering if she loved him enough to abandon every rational and irrational doubt she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thanks to everyone that has commented and left kudos! 
> 
> Intended this to be posted sooner, but I was working on future chapters instead of editing. Anyway, Lan is not participating in the Chimera arc given that arc is soul-crushing and her soul has been adequately stomped on by the Fan Shi arc and Chrollo. That, and, well, I don't think I could add anything to that CA arc since it already has so much going on. I don't remember if I've mentioned, but I have sketches of the new opposition (Miwa, Haven, Roeis, and regrettably Agnello) on my ancient deviantart account AwkwardBlackCat- where you can see me ever so slowly improve at drawing, lol.


	45. Gathering: Stage

_August 8th_

Lan fiddled with her sleeve, now trapped in a corridor of packed bodies.

Hundreds of hunters cramming into a building did nothing for her nerves. The amount of Nen flowing around her was wild; it messed with her ability to sense individuals, auras just a blob fluctuating mindlessly.

She thought more people would have skipped out on voting. Didn't matter that it was mandatory, she was sure that the Association would have to hunt down their pig-headed members or throw out some ultimatum to ensure attendance.

She certainly wouldn't have shown up to vote until threatened.

The only reason she was already there…

Instead of shredding leather with nails, her fist knocked a hole in the wall. Startled glances ended with her glare, malice slipping through to cover guilt.

She should have gone.

Knuckle, Morel, and Shoot, they all almost _died_ fighting the Chimera Ants. Chairman Netero had died, and trying to fathom what could kill that old bastard… She should have been there for them. She hated that she hadn't been. She hated that Knuckle had been happy to see her when she had shown up at the hospital. She hated that when she got there, she saw that those two fucking kids had fought the Chimera Ants, Gon with _everything_ he had.

And what had she been doing? Clinging to Chrollo until he ditched her. Then hiding from her problems with Yan and Tai until a particularly bad night in Kou-Ang ended with her drunk enough to forget killing half-a-dozen Bai Ze members. To add insult to injury, she had missed a call from Chrollo and couldn't force herself to call back… which made her feel worse. She had chosen him over the Chimera mission, yet-

"Hey, little brat!"

Her blood iced over. A call down the hall, air shifting, sinking, crushing her lungs as slime oozed over her skin, she had never wanted to feel this again. Pastel green hair and a plunging neckline come into view. Sybil. Even with her aura as a barrier, she was drowning in an ocean determined to smother her. Sybil shoved aside the crowd, time taking its time as Lan watched in horror. _She wasn't supposed to be here!_ Of all the people Lan expected to dutifully appear to vote, Sybil was the last fucking person on that list. Right up there with the Spiders.

Sybil wouldn't- No, actually, she would. The woman had peeled open a train like a can before throwing it at Hisoka, everyone else be damned. Sybil knocked aside Hunters without care. She'd fight them all if it meant getting to Lan.

Her back pressed to the wall as Sybil stepped in front of her, fury in her eyes.

"Where the hell is that bastard hiding?"

Lan felt the color rush from her face. Sybil didn't have the decency to speak in Anchian to keep the conversation possibly private. No, nearly everyone looked to the commotion, devouring the scene with curiosity. One wrong word from this idiot's mouth and her connection to the Phantom Troupe was common knowledge to the entire Association. She was having flashbacks to her stupid Heaven's Arena stunt. Something to shut her up, _anything_ to shut her up-

"Well?" Sybil's Ren flared with the promise to make the building an outdoor space if need be. Lan's chest felt like bursting under leaded weight. She couldn't sputter a response more than spike her aura to offset the pressure. Hard to think without breathing. "Where is he?" Sybil repeated, hazel eyes narrowed with her snarl. "You're his plaything or something, right? Have his number?"

"No," she forced out, wholly unconvincing. Sybil didn't need to be convinced. Lan could see the hostage-taking coming no matter her response. For as dumb as she could be, Sybil kept close watch. Even if Nemmi wasn't waiting outside, he couldn't save her now. There would be no surprise attack followed by fleeing and hiding.

"You're going to call him." Sybil's fury slipped to a pout, attention flickering to her clothes- a stepdown in quality from her previous. "Machi won't even talk to me," Sybil complained, _loudly_. So many eyes burning holes. A name was already too much. "Like, I haven't heard a thing from any of the Phant-"

She stomped on Sybil's foot with every bit of stupidity she had.

An arm over her shoulders and Arri bristled. Aura protecting pale skin against razor edges, Sybil staring dumbly, Lan wanted to disappear now more than ever. She did, however, relax, one crisis averted and replaced by something more manageable. Golden eyes filled with satisfaction when their gazes met.

Hisoka gave up his hold on her shoulder to worm his way between her and the wall, position awkward and intrusive, but she expected no less from him. The price of protection, she supposed. She imagined he wore a wickedly curved smile as he held her against him.

"You!" Sybil yelled over Hisoka's greeting, pointing a finger for emphasis. A finger that _conveniently_ would have ended up in Lan's eye had she not leaned further into Hisoka's chest.

The excited wave in Sybil's aura knotted Lan's stomach. Gawking Hunters that may have otherwise passed out or turned tail worsened the situation by using Nen to protect themselves. Then Hisoka, his lessened as she pulled back Arri to a harmless layer. She hated that without his bloodlust aimed at her, his sticky aura almost felt relieving. _Almost_.

"We never quite finished our fight," Hisoka said with some actual disappointment. She almost stomped on his foot for trying to make her grind against him. "Want to step outside?"

Sybil's eyes seared a hole through Lan as she debated. It didn't take a genius to know Lan would disappear the second Sybil's attention left her. Her eyes lit when she looked back to Hisoka, priorities ever absent. Words were left hanging on an open mouth.

"Oh, Sybil," someone called from further up the hall. Like an owner calling to a dog, voice condescending underneath the cheer, Sybil's brow twitched. Her hand dropped to her side. A blond man in a colorful suit, smile eerily fake, waited for her down the hall. Hisoka set his chin on Lan's head, leaning forward with much too much interest.

This man was someone to avoid, then. She had learned her lesson about getting involved with Hisoka's targets.

"Fucking Pariston," Sybil hissed under her breath, turning on her heel to march to the rat himself. Lan snorted in a failed attempt to hide a laugh. Sybil whipped around, warning, "Shut it or I'll kill you!" The note taped to Sybil's back screamed punishment for the train incident, though 'Vote Pariston' showed exactly how she maintained Hunter status despite her terrorizing the general populace and working for mob bosses.

Hisoka hummed, shocking her as he released his hold and allowed her to step away. They rejoined the line, side by side, glares and malignant auras dispersing attention.

* * *

His back hit the wall as Sybil passed, the woman knocking aside anyone remotely in her path. Roeis glared at her back, pardon from the rat Zodiac infuriating.

That violent exchange down the hall ignited fire. Lanfen Paijin at the center of the show, his suspect number one in the murders of Lino and Bando. Sybil Delphi recently on probation for derailing and throwing a train bound for Cenvien, for killing a number of innocent passengers, seeking something from the Paijin heir. And, added to the Fan Shi- Paijin drama, Hisoka, the clown that had been a flick of the wrist away from murdering an examiner.

They were three Hunters that needed to be purged from the Association and properly charged for their numerous crimes. If Pariston won the election, nothing would be done. Nothing adequate was already being done.

Roeis needed to do something.

Stumbling away from the wall, face painted with false bafflement and a touch of fear, he looked to the Hunter behind him with wide eyes. "Who was that?" he asked, other man's attention captured.

"Sybil Delphi." The man glanced down the hall, making sure she was nowhere near earshot. "You must be new if you haven't seen that witch parading around like a diva. She's a Blacklist Hunter that is specifically after the Phantom Troupe." He scoffed at the idea, adding, "Have to be crazy to be doing that."

"Definitely." They were another group that Roeis wanted to hunt down. But another day, because he would admit they were too much for him to take on alone while in a corrupt system. "And, you got me! I'm definitely new." Lying always left a bad taste in his mouth, even little white lies that were a necessary evil. "How long have you been a Hunter?"

"A few years."

Too evasive. He needed something a bit more concise or more answers. Well, as assurance. His command wasn't too complex and vague answers were still answers. Yet, Nen could be fickle, and always best to ere on the side of caution—as Isma often reminded. "But Sybil, a Blacklist Hunter, huh? Her aura really has a nasty feel to it, doesn't it?" In fact, a lot of nearby Hunters dealt with the maelstrom of bloody aura by using Ten. As did Roeis. Initially. With the worse of it over, he maintained it as a cover.

The man nodded. Non-verbal answers were weak. A few more, then. "Those other two aren't much better."

Perfect.

"Any idea who she was talking to?" The man shook his head, conversation sealed, excuse given for Roeis to take a half-step closer into the man's personal space. He lowered his voice, spoke more covertly. "You see the tall guy with red hair?" A mumbled yeah made Roeis almost smile. "His name is Hisoka. No idea what he exactly does as a Hunter, just that he was not pleasant during the exam." The other man gave him the suspicious side eye, Roeis quickly tacking on, "According to rumor, anyway." He gave a mental sigh of relief when the Hunter didn't step away. Making a scene would draw her attention. "I bet, standing next to him, is a young woman named Lanfen. Black hair, small, cute like a fox."

The tap of Roeis' hand on the man's set his spine rod straight. Panicked eyes stared forward, body and words lost under the will of a manipulator's Nen.

Roeis kept his voice low, drawing a final breath. "I want you to call this number," he said, listing his number, continuing on the same breath, "and stay on the line so I can hear, all while standing behind Hisoka and Lanfen." A mouthful of a command, but simple enough to follow.

The order issued, the man fished his phone out of his pocket, silently dialing, blown out pupils fearful. It must feel disgusting to heedlessly follow orders. But, again, the request was small. The only way it would have failed was if the man had such incredible phone anxiety that the simple task became unusually arduous. A request in-character always ensured its fulfillment.

"Thank you," Roeis said, bad taste lingering in his mouth, "and I'm sorry about this."

But he needed evidence, and this was a necessary evil.

* * *

"Pity." Hisoka's smile disappeared briefly as he sulked. "I wanted someone to fight." Relieving words to someone he usually tried to provoke on sight.

"So that's why you're here." He was another Lan didn't expect to see at such a mundane affair, though perhaps she should have. Grand majority of Hunters in one place, he must be a kid in a candy store. Maybe he came just for the spectacle of the Zodiacs gathered in one place.

"You know me so well, darling." He turned, swinging gold catching her eye. Earrings. With little hearts on the end. They were kind of cute, actually. A finger bopped her nose, her attention shooting from his face. So, he poked her cheek instead, nail not digging into skin as harshly as usual. "I didn't expect to find you here. Such a pleasant surprise."

Did he not know about the chimera ants? About Gon? She thought the kid was another unfortunate favorite of his. "I was seeing friends." Before he dared comment 'you have friends?' she added, "Thank you." Her eyes darted to the side again, hiding from his raised eyebrows. "For distracting Sybil." He looked incredulous rather than appreciative. She didn't say thank you often. In fact… "And for your help with the Fan Shi," she whispered despite meaning it. He had helped. Immensely. Chrollo wouldn't have been able to contact the Spiders without Hisoka and without them…

Her fingers brushed down her right arm. God Complex was as forgiving as any sloppy Nen condition. She would have died after that fight. And Minji would have let her. She was so lucky she didn't obliterate Nemmi with it…

"It would be a problem if you died."

A somewhat serious tone tricked her into looking at him. "For who?" she asked as he managed to maintain a flat expression.

The Cheshire grin snapped back into place as he cheerfully declared, "For me, of course." He made her roll her eyes. Again, she should lower her expectations. He may care… for a total of thirty seconds before moving on to a still-breathing target. Hell, he may forget about her while she was still alive if his fickle interest waned enough.

She wanted that, now. It'd be easier than maintaining his interest to stay alive or watching him get killed by the Spiders.

The line crept forward, silence between them. She would call it pleasant, yet, Hisoka, on his best behavior, he wanted something. Or was up to something. Both. A brief glance with Gyo revealed a lack of gum. He noticed, of course, but he only offered an innocent smile at her suspicions.

"That was cruel, you know." He pouted, voice so hurt the Hunter in front of them turned to gawk. Until he relearned his lesson on not gawking at sour-mood Lan. "All alone," Hisoka moaned, "in the middle of a desert. I could have died."

"I just stabbed you." A little stab wound meant nothing to the guy that _consistently let his arms get chopped off for laughs_. His arena matches were fun to watch… Tipsy Lan made worse decisions than blackout drunk Lan, if only because she remembered more. She needed to distance herself, not watch his matches with the reverent awe that got her into this mess.

"You _poisoned_ me."

"I told you exactly what it did." He couldn't even complain 'but anaphylaxis.' She had stuck around long enough to see he wasn't violently allergic to the venom. "And, if you had bled out, it would have been your own fault." The scariest part of using that poison was that he could still use Nen. She had expected to struggle to get away, even if he was effectively paralyzed. But he let her leave. His odd behavior persisted from then to now. "You had that wound closed within a half second of realizing it was there."

"So cruel," he whined. Fake hurt annoyed her into facing forward again.

A raised arm made her tense. A finger toying with her hair drew attention to black locks in another silent question. Before waltzing into a den of Hunters, she had remembered to grab her wig and makeup. Pitiful as far as disguises went, especially since she didn't bother with a different outfit, leather jacket with cute little skull buttons that Auntie had sewn on just for her no exception, but she couldn't be bothered to put forth the added effort. The wig also happened to help hide the awkwardness of growing out her hair again, and the makeup somewhat masked the dark circles under her eyes. Knuckle would only try to comfort her more.

Maybe the slight changes were all he wanted to point out. Hisoka had done the same. The addition of earrings, the purple and yellow of his clothes complimenting his now more-red-than-pink hair and ever gold eyes, and his latest style of jester clothes flattering on him in some strange way.

She hated that she could still see him as physically attractive.

"Get any new tattoos recently?"

"No," she snapped, slapping his hand from her hair. He could have asked her what her underwear looked like, or, hell, asked for her to strip then and there, and that would have pissed her off less. She wanted to go one interaction without Chrollo being the subject of his attention. Because that always lead to the question of the Phantom Troupe and she just didn't… She didn't have an answer.

He ignored the cue to step away and drop the subject. Instead, he leaned in, arm snaking around her waist to prevent escape as his lips nearly pressed to her ear. "I want to speak with you somewhere more private later."

Chrollo was indeed all he wanted. "Shut up," she hissed over his next words. There would be no later. She punctuated her, "No." with an elbow to his ribs. His laugh as he let her go ignited more fury.

The gawking-again Hunter was tossed by the shirt collar at Hisoka to cover her escape. Hisoka stepped out of the way, the Hunter crashing into another, that man's phone shattering on tile. Her attention went forward when Hisoka remained in place. "See you later, fledgling. I promise," he called after her, snapping her patience in two. She kept walking, and she would keep walking until they were out of each other's sight.

Complaints of her cutting ahead suffocated under her soured aura promising to maim further irritants. She should have stayed at the hospital. Even if everyone was asleep to leave her alone in that depressing sterile hellscape, she should have stayed.

"Hey, Lanfen?"

Her footsteps trailed to a stop. Familiar. Annoying. She glanced over her shoulder to meet another nuisance: exam boy. He stood with his head titled, puppy brown eyes revealing the discomfort he tried to hide. Awkward, waiting for a response, he fiddled to put his phone in his pocket. Eventually, he learned silence was the only answer he would earn.

"That much bloodlust is going to draw more attention to you, you know?" She stared at him blankly. Further up the line she went, then. "Sybil might come back," he added, her steps once again dragging to a halt.

He had been watching. She didn't like that. Didn't like him. She controlled seething bloodlust since he regrettably made a good point. But why bother? The distaste was mutual. He should have let her attract Sybil right back to her. For the other Hunters' sakes? Those on the weaker side certainly felt uncomfortable, perhaps even pained, by the nauseating combination of Sybil's, Hisoka's, and her aura over short succession. Exam boy wasn't that weak, with his aura once again a barrier to hers.

"You must be in a hurry to get out of here." So pleasant and helpful, he set off alarm bells. He didn't approve of her display, now and previously. "Want a spot in front of me?"

"No."

"It'd make less of a commotion, you know?"

Didn't care. Disgust at the offer didn't dissuade. More questions on the tip of his tongue, she ignored him like she should have from the beginning.

She hoped one vote would be all that was necessary to name a chairman. Sticking around decreased her survival odds.

* * *

The trash bin fell to the ground, metallic clatter ringing out, damned sign mockingly sliding back to Sybil's feet. She ripped it off the ground, shredding it since crumpling it had failed. Her public shaming was done. The sign could die now.

What she wouldn't give to see a mob tear that rat bastard to pieces…

Maybe she could incite a mob! Nobody really liked Pariston— disregarding his literal fan club, as they were clearly stupid. Her face scrunched when she realized a mob would, like, turn on her just as fast. If killing civilians got on the Association's nerves, then scores of Hunters would have her ejected. It'd be bye-bye license and all its benefits.

And that, that wouldn't have been a problem if the mafia wasn't _still_ in shambles over the Dons' deaths.

So, fuck Pariston _and_ fuck Chrollo.

Know what? Fuck Lanfen, too. Little brat managed to worm her way to safety between a clown and spiders.

As the last shreds of cardboard floated to her feet, the footsteps behind her stopped, the person trailing her finally leaving the shadows.

"Sybil Delphi."

She turned to face her braindead stalker. They had to have noticed her mood. They had to have realized that they'd be pulled apart. So why insist? She gave them plenty of opportunity to scurry away to pester someone else. They were probably just another Hunter less-than-pleased with her behavior. Like the most nondescript guy asking her endless questions earlier—mostly about the exchange with Hisoka and Lanfen. Only reason he escaped death was Isma what's-his-name at his back, glaring the threat of license shredding. Like, she didn't need him on her case because he would actually hunt her down. Old man was up there with Botobai when it came to cranky old Hunters with morals.

A random stalker calling her out like they were asking for civil conversation and a business deal pissed her off, though.

High-collared jacket with accents of red, skin pale, eyes dull, this cheap vampire double had no reason to be bothering her.

A hand on her hip with dark aura churning around her, she wished everyone was as jumpy as Lanfen. The woman in front of her unflinchingly stood her ground. Stupidity rooted her in place. Or maybe she was a corpse under the control of a manipulator? Sybil had seen that before, in Chrollo's little band of bugs. "So, like, what do you want?"

"You hold a grudge against the Phantom Troupe. We-"

"Don't tell me," Sybil interrupted, flowery speech be damned as she held back laughter. "You're looking for revenge?" There were _hundreds_ of people looking to end the Troupe. Only two had taken members. A mystery assailant in Yorknew and Silva Zoldyck- and the Zoldycks no longer took contracts on them. Unless _we_ included some major talent, screw even listening. "Why the hell would I-"

Her mouth hung open, vacuum pulling at her feet, hair whipping to the side. Everything not tied to the floor rushed towards a center point. Nen ate a section of the wall beside her. A pebble hit the ground as the aura dispersed, the perfect sphere creating a crater under its odd weight. The woman dropped her arm back to her side.

Well, never mind.

She loathed working with others. But, that said, Sybil was also lazy, and they were free labor. Once she knew where Chrollo was, she'd ditch them or feed them to the Spiders as a distraction. Or fight them for a bit of fun. Whatever came first. Because that little show at least proved one wasn't wholly useless. Its not like she had much else going on with the election trapping her here.

"Okay, so, what do you want?"

* * *

Agnello flicked ash onto Haven's paper, burning a hole through the pretty face of the woman meticulously drawn over the last half-hour. Like the teen they were, Haven crumpled ruined work before tossing it in his face. Followed by a Nen-laced pen that he dodged by a hair's width.

"How'd you manage to convince Miwa to leave you alone again?"

Haven shoved the table into his hip on their way to retrieve the pen from the wall. "Sybil is volatile." Says the kid that just tried to kill him over a drawing. They pulled their sweater collar down to talk without the muffle, subject surprisingly acceptable. "I would be a liability in a battle of brute force."

Agnello raised an eyebrow. Really? That pen toss showed they weren't fully inept when it came to using Nen as more than a cheap intimidation tactic. Must have sacrificed combat capabilities when making a Hatsu. Made sense, given the kid's age. Heavy restrictions and limitations, he wouldn't be surprised if their ability was solely for use against the Troupe. Miwa probably knew more but getting information from either of them was bleeding a stone.

"Sybil worth anything else?" Brute might be a better word than witch with that woman. Her looks probably saved her from it. Though, no matter how attractive, Agnello didn't like that level of crazy. Just a little bite that could be beaten out if necessary. "From what I've heard, she's a nightmare to work with. Especially with low-paying jobs." Ten Dons' only used her as a last resort with her considerable price tag. And this job had a bounty paycheck heavily outweighed by the difficulty involved. More of a satisfaction reward than a monetary one.

"Not much." Haven dropped the subject like the segue it was. "I would like to have someone more intelligent, yet someone I can still control."

"How highly you think of me! A smart idiot you can use as an errand boy."

"You are."

His outburst got zero reaction beyond that. Bratty kid, demanding things like they were in charge and not even humoring his attempts at friendliness. "You'd look cuter with a smile, sweetheart," he added, looking for a raw nerve to strike. "Unless you're a guy, because I don't swing like that."

Haven frowned, stalking across the room to escape now that they'd dispensed orders. "You would be more tolerable if you learned to be respectful or kept your mouth shut," they mumbled, sweater collar back up to signal conversation definitely over.

"You and Miwa are such downers." And temperamental. Combined with the broodiness, he was fairly sure Haven was a fourteen or fifteen -year-old girl— that, and, well, he _really_ hoped he wasn't hitting on a guy on accident. "But fine, kid. I'll go see what else I can find lying around."

This election the Hunter Association was putting on made for a pristine recruitment pool. Be a shame to waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no update, but I hope you enjoyed. Thank you to everyone that left kudos and comments!


	46. Lovesick: Complication

Lan managed to find calm in the massive hospital. The roof before dawn was near deserted, everyone in their own corner, Lan the only non-employee. They would have much preferred her gone hours ago, but a Hunter License and a bad attitude convinced even the burliest security guards to fuck off.

She _should_ have gone back to the hotel to sleep. She just knew she wouldn't.

 _Guilt_ didn't cover it. Every other passing thought whipped her back to the fact she had abandoned Morel, Knuckle, and Shoot when they needed help the most. _Any_ help. Even hers. Knuckle may be up and about, but that meant she had his company the most. He always made her feel the guiltiest. The Chimera Ants with them just offered further proof she fucked up. And, a cherry on top of her regret, she was staying near because they were her only help when Sybil remembered she existed.

The election wasn't helping her nerves, either. The first round was useless. Then her Sybil protection disappeared, and she refused to go with him and his assassin friend— his invitation made it _very_ unclear if they were doing something _not_ sex-related. The second vote was just as useless, the minor relief of Sybil's absence not making up for wasted time. Lan skipped the third along with a couple dozen others to force a revote under the ridiculous ninety-five percent attendance rule. The fourth barely made progress, just narrowed down the contenders to sixteen at the price of a returned Sybil. The longer she was here without Hisoka, somehow, her life expectancy plummeted. The only way this would get worse was if they forced them into a room until this nonsense was done. Because Sybil wouldn't care.

Between the crippling guilt, nagging paranoia, and residual fear, she knew sleep was out the question, so why even try?

The door opening made her tense. Escape route would be cutting the safety bars over the ledge, jumping, using Nemmi to shove her into a window, and running. Sad, how she had thought of that two seconds after stepping onto the roof. Quiet and soft, the door closed again, her nerves still sky high. Nemmi shuffled on her shoulder, calling for attention but not panic.

She glanced behind her, vague recognition settling her worry. The small woman with rabbit teeth and thin grey hair, she had been there to see Gon. A lot of people came to see Gon…

She approached, perhaps with that same vague recognition, but with a disregard for the way Lan's eyes narrowed. Maybe because she didn't freely fling around her aura in warning, once again without that outlet under the threat of Sybil locating her.

Silence broke softly. "You seem troubled," the short woman said, tone gentle and soothing. It was nice, familiar in a way that wanted to pull heartstrings. Lan bit her lip. Yun. This woman sounded like Yun.

"I must look awful if you picked that up on a glance." Lan hated the overly harsh edge that leached into her voice. She was the one that thought of Yun, not this stranger with perhaps, for once, good intentions.

"No." She shook her head for emphasis, voice still soft and not the least bit put off by Lan's tone. "Not at all. Perhaps tired, but that's expected. Hospitals are restless places." Lan silently agreed, the pause heavy as her reason for being here ate at her. "Your heart's melody is more of a requiem. Heavy and lonesome, like you lost someone dear."

She tilted her head slightly. Had she meant that metaphorically? Or did she come up with that based on the fact this was a hospital? Or did she actually hear this in her heartbeat? The other woman just smiled pleasantly. Lan looked away. Didn't matter, really. "Slowly losing someone."

More like everyone. Through her own fault. The longer she sat in limbo with her decisions, the further away she pushed everyone, the more she hated herself for doing it. But what was new? She had been so scared of how much she had liked Yun that she may as well have faked her death in how completely she cut contact. Chrollo and Hisoka only avoided that because they were very difficult to hide from forever. Though, in a way, she wanted Chrollo to come after her. And then never leave again. If Auntie weren't as stubborn as Lan, she would have given up on Lan years ago for all the crap she put her through. The Phantom Troupe would be the shove over the edge.

"I understand." Her expression, gaze far in the distance with sadness in her voice, Lan struggled to find even a half-truth. Lan looked away, not wanting her expression read in return. Genuinely kind people baffled her. "When a friend is on a self-destructive path… It's hard to watch someone you care for losing themselves to pain."

The subject would move away from her or end. Yun always promoted oversharing. "You're one of Gon's friends." A statement, an end, yet even then the subject change didn't faze her.

"Melody." She smiled pleasantly, buck teeth not detracting. "And more of a friend of a friend, I suppose. We only met briefly, but he left an impression."

Lan nodded. One conversation had been enough to remember Gon as more than Hisoka's pet project. "His dad won't even go see him," she mumbled, annoyed. She had no reason to get invested in their drama but… His father wouldn't go see his dying kid and it just annoyed her, okay? Abandoning your dying child… She could watch Leorio punch Ging for hours. "My name's Lanfen," she offered, deciding on her full name. Knuckle or someone else may have already introduced her. And people just didn't walk up to strangers commenting on the mood unless they wanted something. Melody seemed harmless enough, but that may be the sleep deprivation and Yun comparison talking. "Knuckle is…" It felt wrong to call him a friend when she certainly didn't treat him as well as he deserved. "Morel…" Is or was? Did she really deserve to still call him her mentor? All of her relationships were falling apart one by one…

"You feel guilty for not helping them," Melody said, knowing more than guessing. Lan's hesitance may have hinted, but still. Could she truly hear that in a heartbeat? Nen mysteries were more fun to resolve than the reasons to her misery. "They aren't angry with you. Knuckle's heartbeat flutters with happiness whenever he sees you."

"It shouldn't."

Nemmi hopped from her shoulder to the ledge. Graceful and quiet as he may be, Melody's eyes went to him even without using Gyo. As Lan pet Nemmi in mock comfort, she smiled bitterly. She had hyper-sensitive hearing that apparently acted as a polygraph. The absolute worst conversation partner for someone like Lan, her half-truths present in deliberate omissions.

Chrollo lied much the same way, didn't he?

She stepped back from the edge, Nemmi returning to her shoulder. Melody had proven herself too dangerous.

"I hope your friend finds peace," Melody whispered, not pursuing Lan as she walked away.

"Doubtful," Lan whispered in return, hope nearly lost.

What did _peace_ mean? Certainly not isolation.

* * *

The call went unanswered.

Maybe she had forsaken him. It had crossed his mind when she hadn't acknowledged his last call.

Chrollo could accept that. He may even feel a touch proud at her decision to damn him for his behavior. With a bizarre sense of accountability, he understood leaving as he had had been incredibly inappropriate and conceivably awful.

Self-sabotage had motivated him.

Fever-driven delirium had given him the brilliant idea to tell her he loved her to control her. A word and a letter in, he realized too late. She knew what he had been about to say. She would assume he was lying. And maybe he was. He never considered himself capable of anything more than narcissism. Until perhaps that moment. Except, even then, he didn't know how, exactly, he felt towards her. At least assuming she never joined the Phantom Troupe. He loved the Spiders like he loved himself. They were him. Yet, loving someone outside that…

If she had decided to never contact him again, the debate died with their relationship. He should have left the choice to her. The matter was already taken care of, he shouldn't use it as an excuse to talk to her. But, ultimately, he was selfish.

Ringing dying to static silence, a hesitant breath before speaking, the moment felt like an eternity.

"Chrollo?"

Timid, unsure, hurt, hopeful, every twisted emotion in his name, he savored it. As ridiculous as one of Lanfen's romances, he missed her voice.

"Lanfen," he said, wondering if she felt the same. In the pause, he wiped blood from his nose. "Where are you?"

The Hunter Association was holding an election for a new chairman, the rules about participation stringent. He imagined it would enter a stalemate because of lacking attendance. If they threatened her license, Lanfen would then be coerced into making an appearance. Shalnark agreed that was the action they would most likely take against absentees, though he would never attend no matter the consequences. Sybil, however-

"The Hunter Association." Her answer hit him harder than the metal that had broken his nose. What possessed her to go there? "Sybil is around," she continued, stating an obvious concern. Had she avoided Sybil thus far? Lanfen was good at hiding, but Sybil's aura tended to set her on edge… "So was Hisoka," she added, answering his unasked question while raising a different concern. "Briefly."

Something had pulled Hisoka away from a gathering of playthings and Lanfen? He hummed at the oddity of that.

"Sybil should not cause you further trouble during the election." Wiping the last tacky blood from his nose, he smiled slightly. He ensured that. Sybil held few things dear. He had already stolen a piece of her in the form of Indoor Fish. That left Apocalypse Countdown… and Circe.

"Did you kill Circe?" An accusation, he imagined her brows were knitted together, her lips quirked into a pout. He wanted more than to imagine.

"Death isn't punishment enough," he repeated, reassured. She had said that, if he sought revenge on her behalf, death would be too merciful. His hypocrite, for not wanting to seek revenge, she had asked him to make it hurt. "I remember, Lanfen. You needn't worry." He would honor that clause, just for her. Though, perhaps, not entirely for her alone. Time hadn't ebbed his irritation as much as it should have. In fact, passed time without retribution warped irritation to anger. A prolonged death, with poison and torture to mirror their treatment of her, would satisfy him more.

Machi stepped back. A superficial flesh wound, she had quickly finished stitching his shoulder. As if to not interrupt, she began mending his jacket unprompted, eyeing him and his pleasant tone.

If Sybil's weakness was Circe, then it was glaringly obvious that Minji was hers. He hadn't expected Minji to break his nose with the intent of forcing bone into his brain. He would also admit he still let her fist land to see if her highly specialized ability had any use. Circe had been as forgiving as expected, his shoulder gouged deep, but she was hardly an issue with Minji in hand.

In the end, in protecting Lanfen, he also gained himself a present.

"Are you otherwise fine?"

"I…" In her trailing words, he could hear her eyes drift to the ground, glimmer lost to doubt. "Yeah. I'm fine." A lie. An obvious one at that.

"I left a gift in your room."

He had expected her to return to her safe-haven, but she had been absent, her aunt not forthcoming with her location. The old woman had become bolder in her insistence he leave with his stolen goods and never return. He doubted she informed Lanfen of his visit, nor that he had left her anything. Although, had her aunt disposed of it, Lanfen would be upset.

That said, his present was hardly an adequate apology. She would be more appreciative of an in-person apology with an admission of guilt and an explanation why. That isn't to say she wouldn't forgive him without a decent apology, she would, and he knew that. The fact he didn't want to take advantage of that said something.

Mostly that he could understand right and wrong if he bothered to care about consequences.

Shalnark glanced up from his laptop and phone, smiling as he reported "Got it!" Too quick… Chrollo felt reluctant. He wanted more. More than a voice alone could provide, but since he couldn't see her this moment, her voice would have to suffice.

"Goodbye, Lanfen," he said, silence heavy. He had killed the option of pleasant conversation. Without apologizing, withholding the affection he sought became his punishment. Wordlessly, she hung up. He said, "I'll see you soon." to a dead line, wondering if that addition would have brought her hope or dread.

"Want to know where she is?"

"Thank you, Shalnark," Chrollo paused as Machi offered his mended coat, "but that isn't necessary." Shalnark tilted his head, aware that Lanfen had hung up before he'd finished speaking. He had been part of the call, after all. "Not currently," he added. He wanted to track her phone to find her after he concluded a few final pieces of Troupe business. And, should she find herself in trouble during the election, he could send a few Spiders to collect her. Shal assumed he wanted it because she hid from him. Which may be partially true. He couldn't apologize if she disappeared, as she tended to do. Either motive, he probably shouldn't have done it. She wouldn't like it.

"And thank you, Machi." He smiled slightly at her blank expression.

She wanted to believe the tone he took with Lanfen was a manipulative front, but he gave her every reason to know otherwise. Lanfen was sentimental at heart, yet also not materialistic. Finding her a meaningful gift had required him to avoid the common cliché of jewelry only to fall for something far more childish. Machi's face when he asked her to recreate it, she agreed that he had completely lost his mind.

Machi and Shalnark's combined reaction only proved he acted with truly bizarre affection towards Lanfen. Even for someone he was 'manipulating.' If it was to the detriment of the Spider remained the question. He would continue testing reactions.

He rolled his shoulder after pulling on his coat, twinges of pain ignored. "I feel much better," he added, an afterthought to himself.

Because she had answered, at least.

* * *

The election concluded days late with Pariston as the chairman… for a few seconds. The fact Cheadle won should have stifled his irritation over the results, but it hadn't. Pariston had made the election a game. If this had been over days ago, then-

 _Calm down_. They could act now.

"There's a connection," Roeis stated, trying to distance emotion from evidence.

He couldn't have prevented what happened. Isma had deemed the election more important than haphazardly chasing after known criminals; Roeis even agreed, since Pariston wanted Hunters to leave to further stall.

Roeis went against Isma's advice to investigate the aftermath. Numerous civilians braindead with a manipulator's needles, he saw Illumi's work first hand _in the morgue_. As well as a number of temps and licensed Hunters, murdered by both Illumi and a second assailant. The same that had killed Teradein in Seirin Group's headquarters. The thin clean wounds, he was positive they came from Nen-reinforced playing cards.

"She may not-" No, she wasn't. He had no evidence against her in this case. Had she been, he wouldn't need to justify pursuing her. "She wasn't directly involved in the Seirin Group's murders." A high-profile case witnessed by the entire association, direct involvement would have led to immediate persecution. "But she warrants investigation, if only to bring Hisoka and Illumi to justice." The two had disappeared. She may know where, given her _documented_ association with Hisoka. Recording that call hadn't been for nothing.

Isma nodded, standing, finally leaving his desk to act after months of prodding. It took one following step for Isma to hold up his hand.

"Alone, Roeis." Stern, it sounded like an order not to be rescinded. Roeis felt his brief satisfaction slip back to frustration. "Your emotional investment is dangerous." The beginnings of a lecture, Roeis opened his mouth, Isma talking over complaints. "She is cautious. If you approach, you may not be so lucky as to escape."

"I can-" He swallowed his words. No. He couldn't. She was reluctant to answer any question, no matter how insignificant. Even if he managed to strike enough answers to issue a command, he would be placing his hand in a beartrap. Her Nen was solely made to kill.

"Everyone has a role to fulfill." Isma placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It's not that he was preventing him from helping to be cruel; Roeis' insecurities just made him feel like it. "Your investigation will be invaluable during the trial. Leave taking her into custody to someone better suited for battle."

Roeis reluctantly nodded. Battle wasn't his place; it never was. He hated the active rendering of flesh. Killing that chameleon during the exam had him in tears; he barely made it back by the deadline because he had to drag the bleeding corpse with him as a reminder. Anyone paying attention would have seen his little celebration was fake. He lost his nerve at a lizard, forget an active role in killing a person.

Another pat called his attention from the floor. Isma's voice lost its edge, his expression softening from a hardened Hunter to an old man that'd seen too many untimely deaths. "I do not wish to lose another student, Roeis."

His eyes darted to the side with preemptive guilt. "I understand." But she kept dangerous company. To face them alone…

"Assuming she has not disappeared," his voice once again stern, Isma turned, "I will bring Lanfen in for questioning. Foremost to find Hisoka and Illumi, but for Bando and Lino as well." He stood by the door, looking back, deep set frown in place, with a final reassurance and order. "When the time comes, you will have your chance to assist in bringing them justice. In the meantime, wait here, be safe."

"All right."

The closing door echoed on tile, footsteps outside fading to nothingness.

Ten minutes.

Roeis stood in place for exactly ten minutes before following.

* * *

Lan walked through the deserted hallway of the hotel, florescent lights too bright for the midnight hour. She squinted at her phone, debating.

The election over and the pieces of her strained relationship with Knuckle taped together, she needed to decide what to do next. Nemmi perched on her shoulder, peeking at her phone, the screen dark. He chirped as she fiddled with it.

Chrollo had bought it for her when she refused to stop using her broken one, the screen so shattered glass flaked off in chunks.

She had been a bit… rude. Nemmi ruffled his feathers, _not rude enough_. And he was probably right. She shouldn't have answered at all, never mind that her sleep deprived brain wanted comfort. Nemmi squawked again, stomping his feet. Chrollo had been absolutely cruel in abandoning her after almost saying he loved her. He didn't deserve any attention. Acting concerned about Sybil, his lovesick tone, she wanted to slap him. Instead she just hung up on him- and regretted it enough to debate calling back, lovesick herself. The supposed gift he left her at home, if it wasn't an apology… Maybe that's why Auntie never mentioned him collecting his things. Lan said they had broken up, sort of, in a way. Felt like it.

Nemmi yanked at her hair.

"Yeah," she mumbled, "I need a nap." Her thoughts had been left to run wild too long. Her emotions went right along with them.

She exchanged her phone for a room key.

Opening the door, she was no longer alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll scream into the void, but I love Senritsu/Melody so much. I wanted to write her in somewhere at least once, so have her talking some sense into poor Lan. Also, Chrollo is feeling some things, and he doesn't like the idea of feeling these things, so how solve? He starts getting the troupe involved... which is a different problem but that's beside the point. 
> 
> Thanks to NovaxLay, Xhula, and major thanks to Keetzn for the comments! While not discontinued, I had been super unmotivated and everyone's comments helped.


	47. Heart to Heart: Face to Face

Heart in her throat, she choked. She stood in the doorway, frozen, reeling. Nemmi screeched.

Hisoka.

"Don't act so surprised," he said, pouting with mock offense. A flick of his nail collapsed a card tower precariously built on the windowsill. Visible Bungee Gum collected the cards into a neat pile, another flourish of his hands making the deck vanish. "I promised, didn't I?"

She swallowed down shock, exasperation and exhaustion too much. "Your promises don't mean much," she mumbled, petting Nemmi to keep him from spurring an actual confrontation. She didn't have the will to fight Hisoka right now. Ignoring him, she sat on the couch, wanting to sink into too-firm cushions. Instead, she curled into herself, hands twisting in her lap. "What do you want?" To talk, he had said. She didn't believe him.

"To talk."

Her eyes drifted to him, his tone off. Serious, not his usual lying sing-song. Doubt remained. As would he, since she had no way to remove him besides playing along. "About?" Chrollo, probably. Aggravation joined defeated exhaustion. She didn't want to talk about him, especially with Hisoka. Somehow, he had consumed her life despite his absence. She felt like the star of a half-ass romance subplot in an action movie.

"Why, you, fledgling." He joined her on the couch, sitting in the corner with as much distance as possible between them. As he crossed a leg over the other, she shot him a glance, wary of his sudden respect towards personal space. "Do you love him?"

She stood, listening be damned. As much as she wanted to remove his odd, no smile, expression, hitting him would ignite something worse.

"Fledgling, do you really think he loves you like you do him?"

Her fists clenched at her side, aura about to snap through her restraint, she hissed, "Shut up." Of all the fucking people to lecture her about love…

"How sweet, you do." No overkill sweetness, no sweetness at all, bitter disappointment reigned.

She expected a taunt, an insult, anything to strike nerves for amusement. Not silence. She expected him to force her back to his side, to manhandle her until she broke. Not inaction. It had been some time since he played mental over physical games with her.

"And you do?"

She glanced at him, his grin bright as he replied, "But of course. I love you, darling. I've told you more than once, haven't I?" With his hand soon after crushing her throat. Not that she didn't believe him… He had a twisted sense of love that bred hatred. Maybe she just resented that it was incompatible with her own. "Chrollo is as capable of loving someone as I am."

No. Maybe. She wanted to believe he could love her as she did him. Desperately so. But, in the end, her doubts made her hesitant. Almost hesitant enough to accept Chrollo's offer to escape.

She shouldn't go back to him. It was always easier to run from intimacy than to trust someone. Why she even tried with Chrollo when she had left Yun… On a scale of good to evil, she left an angel for a demon. And that demon and her had a combined emotional intelligence of a two out of ten.

"What do you want, Hisoka?" How far she had fallen, humoring love advice from him. Yet, Hisoka had seen Chrollo in the context of leader. Chrollo seemed to act parts and borrow traits from those surrounding him. A social chameleon. Like her.

"To keep you alive long enough for you to mature," he answered, brutally honest his love didn't exempt her from that fate. "The Phantom Troupe is counterproductive to that in nearly every way."

She understood danger came with association, but he made it sound like Chrollo was as fickle as him when it came to the lives of loved ones. Because Chrollo loved them. Chrollo preferred to keep them alive and well and near. His replacement by defeat rule was the only contradiction to that. Even then, he didn't seem overly fond of it.

"You're a sweet girl, under that cold mask."

Her brows pushed together, cross look earning a few laughs. She once enjoyed his voice, his teasing dramatics with a threatening undertone. Now it just irritated her.

Hisoka leaned into the couch, draping his arm across the back, too comfortable. He fondly reminisced, "Darling, our reunion in Heaven's Arena, you gave me a gift. A _thoughtful_ gift." Of all the things the-past-doesn't-matter-Hisoka bothered to remember, it had to be that. Had he felt touched? Or maybe it was just bizarre enough to be memorable. She didn't imagine anyone else would give him gifts not meant to kill him. "Your contradictions have always been part of your charm." He sighed, dramatic as he held a hand over his supposed heart. His leering glance over her body made her tense. "But," he said, sharp to punctuate his current interest in conversation over sex, "you're too sweet _by comparison_." The rise of his voice, his saccharine sweet smile hiding malice, he declared, "The Spider would eat you alive."

"I don't-"

"Do you understand what it means to be a Spider?" He leaned forward, eyebrows raised to mock her naivety. "What they do?" His eyes narrowed as she looked to her hands, fingers pulling her sleeves. She knew. She just preferred to not acknowledge it like the awful human she was. "See, you already feel guilty, don't you? Following orders is a requirement, not an option. Are you ready to mass murder otherwise innocent people? Do you think you would fare well?"

No. No, she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't. As much violence as she could inflict, she usually had some way to justify it. Innocent bystanders, children, animals, the Phantom Troupe held no qualms. All were relegated to nonessential. Following orders without question was never justifiable. She would lose… An active role in sowing misery, even Auntie wouldn't overlook it, would she? To cross that boundary would be to forsake everything for Chrollo. And to have just him…

"No?" Hisoka sat back, pleased and displeased with her. "I think it would destroy you with agonizing slowness. That's to be _my_ pleasure, fledgling." An absent flick of his fingers, several cards appeared. His focus on arranging them, his voice low, venomous eyes narrow, he warned, "Need I keep reminding you?"

Silence fell. Lan fiddled with her sleeve as Hisoka played with his cards. If he wanted her to consider the consequences, he would be happy to know she already was. She could only distract and escape from this for so long. Without Chrollo present to blind her with pretty reassurances…

Hisoka tossed a card, seven of clubs, to the floor, abysmal happiness gone.

"I'm sure he's given you every ultimatum to join."

Hisoka… Was more perceptive than she cared to admit. Chrollo used that ultimatum as a means of control. He set himself up to gain or remain, while she would lose something no matter her decision. And he refused to even contemplate compromise. That wasn't… That wasn't love. And she didn't want to confront that fact. Not when it was easier to bask in affection after deprivation and pain.

"He's fond of your personality." The stress landed on personality, not her. Like a piece to a collection. Another trinket to collect. "He doesn't want to let go of it now that he's claimed it as his own." A grin pulled his lips, voice dipping with a mocking edge, "He doesn't take loss well."

She didn't believe Hisoka. Not completely. While Chrollo may use the personalities of the Troupe to define his own, she didn't believe that was the only reason he kept them near. They were his friends. He cared about them, missed them in their absence. Hisoka made his attachment sound wholly selfish. What was selfish, though, was that Chrollo wouldn't spare that attention to anyone outside the Troupe. She had been a mistake he was now trying to remedy. Just a mistake. _Always_ a mistake.

"Or," he began, voice sugar-sweet mocking, vicious smile a snarl, "was a bit of conditional affection and hollow praise all it took to convince you?"

She refused his bait. Chrollo, he lied, but not about the Phantom Troupe. He wouldn't insist she join if she would be a hinderance; his praise wasn't all false. The affection…

Still, to go out of his way to warn her. "You really…" She trailed off, _care_ not the correct word. Selfish concern, perhaps. No matter the word for it, he saw a great enough danger to warn her.

"Darling, do you think I would bother otherwise?"

"No." Never.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Consider yourself special, Lan." Golden eyes narrowed, sincere with irritation, "You are one of the precious few that I find worth helping."

"Is that-" She backtracked. It wasn't worth questioning. He would kill her before recognizing that maybe he felt that way because he wanted friendship. It was likely her misplaced hope wishing that were true, anyway. "Is that why you've been so _nice_ lately? Because you think I'll kill-" She hesitated again. Had things really gotten so bad? Her instinct to phrase it like that was a red flag. There was distance in acting on reckless impulse with acceptance of possible death. Admitting it made it too active. "That I'll get myself killed?" she rephrased.

"Me? Nice?" His shock and appall, hand over his heart once more, may have once earned a twitch of smile. She was too tired. Of him. "You've been the mean one. Always hitting me, you're so abusive."

Her body tensed. Was she? "You're insufferable," she snapped. He started it by sexually harassing her; she was defending herself. She wasn't her father… But maybe, the subject, maybe Hisoka would listen. "You keep- touching me and I don't-"

He threw the opportunity back in her face. "Because of Chrollo?"

Conversation over. He said what he wanted, and there was no taking turns. He didn't care about their relationship beyond keeping her alive for later use. His fickle, one-sided love- "I hate you." Maybe as much as her father.

"Hate and love are two sides of the same coin, fledgling." Hisoka damned personal space with his purpose over. Closing in, pulling her beside him when she tried to escape, her nails dug into his wrist as he grabbed her chin. He forced her eyes to his. "That passion focused on me is all I want. And, you, Lan, aren't capable of apathy." He leaned in, breath hot against her lips.

"Shut up."

Hisoka's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood running down his cheek. Nemmi returned to her shoulder, snapping his beak as his feathers rose, sharpened blades waiting. Hisoka released her chin, smile infuriating, as he caught a drip of blood on his fingertip. He'd used Nen fast enough to prevent face removal, but apparently misjudged her sincerity. She never meant it to be a playful slap. She didn't want him touching her. Not anymore.

But he was also right. She would always feel towards him, and, be it love or hate, that's what he wanted.

His laugh made her blood boil and freeze. Hisoka stood, stepping directly in front of her, looking down on her, over her. She shrunk into the cushions. He licked the blood off his finger, slowly, tongue trailing to the tip as his eyes burned hers.

"How do we compare?" he asked, eyes hooded as his thoughts devolved. "Don't be shy," he taunted, moving his hips, trying to draw her attention from his face lower. She didn't acknowledge his boner. Not her fucking problem. He should learn how to end a conversation or just leave. "I know you're not quite that innocent. What's he like? I never got the chance."

Never would, either. Chrollo admitted to being unsure, yet perhaps curious, following a lengthy discussion regarding her being bi, but- "You ruined your chance." With her and with Chrollo.

A threatened step forward, she kicked. His hand barely saved him from misery. Hisoka let go of her foot, stepping away, message apparently received. Hopefully. He could overpower her and… And she shouldn't have to worry about that. Friends and lovers, she should feel safe around them.

"Leave." She pulled her knees to her chest, holding back bloodlust-laced aura. The last thing she needed was for Sybil to appear to give him an excuse. That, and he may consider it an invitation. Nemmi flapped his wings, air displacement an added warning. "Now, Hisoka. I'm done with you."

"Bye-bye, little fledgling," he said, sauntering to the door, opening it to flood the room in unnatural light. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, expression hidden in shadow. "Make good choices. For me."

The door closed.

* * *

_Soured_ failed to fully describe his mood. Hisoka left the hotel and Lan behind him, fingers twitching for an outlet. Horny and frustrated made for a terrible combination.

Lan… His infuriating little Lan…

He had been nice, just as she had wanted, yet did she listen? No, she acted as though she could _consider_ not act. What was he missing? He knew Chrollo. He knew Lan. He should have been able to convince her how positively stupid it was for her to join the Phantom Troupe- because Chrollo would make her join, no place for compromise. Maybe he been mistaken in trying to teach her not to trust. She didn't seem willing to learn. Manipulating her seemed to be working leagues better. He could have had her on his lap had he been crueler.

He should go back. He felt too _invested_ in her. She would make for a good fight, but this was a fruit rotting before ripening. He should kill her and forget her.

He didn't like this _bond_ between them. Bonds were as pointless as the past.

"You there! Stop!"

Hisoka's pace slowed, the gruff and stern voice behind him unfamiliar. An unfortunate lowlife or a misguided Hunter? He stopped. Either way, a card appeared in his fingers, a smile tugging his lips. A bit of blood may relieve the ache. Narrow, deserted street, how convenient that they had finally left the shadows to greet him.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?" He tapped the card to his lips, appraising. An older man, dark hair graying, harsh wrinkles around doe eyes, a sheen of aura built around him. Steady, smooth, controlled, this is what he liked to see.

"Hisoka. Just as I thought." The man squared his shoulders, chest puffed. "To think that I had been looking for Lanfen only to find you first. Fate seems to be on my side!"

Hisoka thought the same, fate providing him a gift, but- _Sweet Lan, see? This is what notoriety earns you_. She was much too easy to find. No wonder he felt eyes on him since leaving that hotel, though these weren't those eyes. All hot and bothered, he sensed another set lurking. They, however, didn't seem keen to join in. Maybe dessert, should this fight fail to satisfy.

"Hisoka, you are a suspect in multiple heinous crimes; foremost, the murder of your fellow Hunters!" Eyes darkening, righteous fury in his aura, how scary. Was this his punishment for helping Illumi? He would kill two birds with one stone, fighting this virtuously senile man. Or three, if you counted his mood… piqued and soured by his fledgling's bird. Annoying girl, preoccupying his mind even on the edge of battle.

"I am Isma Ferrer, Two-Star Blacklist Hunter." The introduction, pride or warning? Shame Chairman Whatever died before they could fight; he had been much more impressive. Yet, Two-Star, Blacklist, promising keywords. "I am here to apprehend you so that you may face justice for your misdeeds." Isma paused as though he expected Hisoka to walk into a pair of handcuffs and behind bars. Lan would have been fine, it seemed. A reluctance to kill made victory impossible. She would have shredded him apart for his mercy. He felt himself losing interest again. "Come quietly and without resistance," Isma needlessly clarified, "and I shall not be forced to use violence."

Five cards now fanned out in his hand: queen of hearts, seven of spades, seven of diamonds, seven of hearts, seven of clubs. Fortunes, all for Lan. He sent her latest fortune at Isma's feet. "I'm afraid I'm not the cooperative sort," he said, smile tense, mood further spoiled. Love problems. Conviction. Success. Every interpretation negative _for him_.

"Then so be it!" A flash of hot aura to intensify the heat of anger, Hisoka gave his not-fickle-enough attention to a man soon to die. Isma, Nen sunflower gold as it swelled and enveloped the street, commanded him, "Face the consequences of your actions!"

* * *

Nen crested and fell in the distance.

Roeis continued towards the fading disturbance. The late hour, streets dark and flooded with the remains of bloodlust-laced aura, he was nearly alone. The hotel loomed several blocks away.

Had Lanfen tried to flee? Or had Isma lured her into the streets to protect civilians? Roeis struggled to find a reason why a fight had erupted so quickly. He was only ten minutes behind Isma; he should have just been entering the hotel. Had he intercepted her, then? His stomach knotted. Something wasn't right. Maybe she had someone with her. Maybe Isma-

A scream.

He ran, up the street, down an alley, to another empty street. Sparks rained down from arching powerlines, flickering bright in blackout night darkness. Glass crunched underfoot. A woman, panicked, stumbling, crashed into him, hands knotting in his shirt. Her words indecipherable as she shook, tear-filled eyes distant. A glance with Gyo showed no traces of Nen, no one presumably controlling her. Just an unfortunate bystander to… to something.

The Nen outburst minutes ago, Isma had to be close. So, why did he not come rushing to help this woman? Maybe he already had Lanfen and couldn't risk her lashing out or escaping.

"Hey," he started, near whispering. Wide eyes shot to him, tears still falling. An onslaught of bloodlust could have done this; the woman was lucky to be far enough away to avoid being seriously hurt. Did she come to investigate? "It's all right. Just take a moment to breath." Trembling fingers left his shirt, the woman nodding as she took a step back. Whatever she saw had been traumatizing… Maybe Isma couldn't keep all civilians from harm. A streetlight torn from the ground, the metal pole impossibly bent, Isma had to have hit it to keep it from nearby buildings. No other damage but the bend… Lanfen couldn't have lifted metal from ground. An ally.

Impatient, her breath not wracked with sobs, he asked, "What happened?" If she remained too shaken, he would just ask three easy 'yes or no' questions before compelling an answer.

"A," she struggled, lips trembling, eyes darting to the side, voice trailing quiet, "body."

He forgot her.

Dark and blinding, night become day-bright with sparks occasionally showering down from damaged powerlines and streetlights. Beyond twisted metal, beyond the rubble-strewn street torn asunder, a reflection bounced off something wet. Open wounds, fresh blood on a body, card impaled between brown eyes-

Roeis turned away, tears burning in his eyes as bile rose in his throat. He collapsed to the ground, hand over his mouth to keep down a scream, a sob. Several minutes passing, an eternity, he tried to shove aside shock.

He failed. This wasn't a body in the morgue, blood washed away, dead for days.

Isma. This was Isma. Ten minutes ago, he had been alive.

Ten minutes. That burst of aura. The playing card. Not Lanfen, but Hisoka. He didn't think- From their interaction during the election, his status after the election, Roeis didn't think- He should have disappeared, not been with her. And Isma, ten minutes? How? Hisoka couldn't be… Isma was a Two-Star Hunter! This shouldn't have been possible.

Sirens and lights flooding the area, Roeis stumbled to his feet, eyes on the ground. He could still see Isma, image burned to memory at a single glance. The woman had recovered from shock before him to report the crime. Officers already rounding the corner, guns drawn, he held up his hands, Hunter License in a tight grip. Their chatter, their recognition of him, of Isma, Roeis ignored them, walking to the other side of the street to leave them to their work.

He didn't need to investigate. Not this time.

Roies slumped against a building, back sliding down the wall until he sat on cold ground. He couldn't do anything right now. He wanted to chase after Lanfen, or Hisoka, but Isma- Isma was right. If a battle-hardened enhancer fell to their abilities, then Roeis stood no chance in hell.

He couldn't do anything. Not alone. But everyone… He had no one left.

Footsteps, a pair of boots in front of him, ash and embers falling as cigarette smoke hit his nose, Roeis glanced up.

Sybil? No. Something felt off in how she held a cigarette in an arrow marked hand, expression calm despite curiously raised eyebrows.

"So, you're a Crime Hunter? Been looking for a Hunter with that sort of skillset to help with a job." Decidedly not Sybil, air-head speech lost to a different pitch, tone, and accent. A washed out Yorknew accent. Not that it mattered, Roeis' mind elsewhere despite an offered distraction. "You interested in taking out the Phantom Troupe?"

"This isn't the best time to be asking favors." Sitting outside a crime scene with drying tears down his face, it should have been obvious. This poor Sybil-mimic didn't seem to care, waiting impatiently, taking another drag, blowing smoke at him. "I have something personal to attend to," Roeis said, looking back to the ground.

"Good thing this is personal, then." A half-hearted glare from Roeis, the mimic stomped out the remains of a dropped cigarette. "Don't get pissy with me, you already seemed to pick up my game." Another flash of marked hands, they pointed a thumb over their shoulder. "That old man, Isma Ferrer he called himself, he was killed by Hisoka." Roeis held his tongue, if only for a moment. He understood a mimicry ability stood no chance against Hisoka, but to watch and do nothing as Isma was killed… Unforgivable. They were also more than suspicious, mimicking Sybil's appearance. They hadn't stumbled upon this battle. "And Hisoka, he's got connections with the Phantom Troupe."

Roeis' eyes went wide. A final connection in a tangled web. Hisoka, Lanfen, Sybil, they all had ties to the Phantom Troupe. But-

"How would you-"

They pointed to themselves. Or, more likely, the disguise they wore. "Sybil Delphi. Not the smartest tool, but tools are for using. She's not going to be useful the same way a Crime Hunter with the network of a Two-Star Hunter at his disposal." Again, Roeis narrowed his eyes. Had this been a set-up? Distracted by conversation and mourning, he realized he should be asking questions, not answering. "You can imagine the disadvantage, going against them alone," they added, rounding back to the offer.

"You want to kill them?" A question only to help activate his Nen. Otherwise, the mimic made it clear, loathing present in each syllable of _Phantom Troupe_.

Their eyebrows rose, voice mocking as they asked back, "You think you can keep those mongrels chained up?"

No. No, he supposed they couldn't. Stopping them had been an abstract goal so far from reach, he never had to consider what it meant to end the Phantom Troupe. And Isma… Isma disliked the death penalty no matter the perpetrator.

That's probably what killed him.

"You agree or what, kid?" They picked at the low-cut shirt, face scrunched. "Sick of standing in street looking like this bitch."

This… This wasn't someone he wanted to work with. Neither was Sybil.

But what other options did he have? All connected by the same thread, bringing justice for Bando, Lino, and Isma meant pursuing Lanfen. To pursue her alone when she surrounded herself with monsters… He may need to do the same just to survive.

* * *

Agnello settled against the corner of the room, eyes on all his supposed allies. The kid, Roeis, he trailed after him like an abandoned dog from the crime scene to their place. Only now had he looked up from his feet.

"Miwa Pelletier?" Roeis whispered, voice between stunned and suspicious.

"You know her?" First time hearing a surname attached to the corpse woman's first. "Spill it, kid, what's her story?"

Miwa disregarded the conversation, eyes fixed on the table, expression as blank as ever. Roeis refused to answer. Verbally. His shoulders relaxed a bit, seeming like he'd found the lesser evil in the room. However, he tensed again upon glancing at Haven. Scowling, they continued to draw, this time a younger man with dark hair brushing large eyes. Roeis had the wrong idea. Haven wasn't the naïve kid in the room.

Sybil finally joined their makeshift strategy meeting, not even a second passing as she said, "Hisoka mustn't have wanted to play." _With me_. Agnello borrowed her face because she claimed the clown knew her, was interested in her. Interested in fighting her, maybe. Bastard would have killed Agnello if he had shown himself. "Told you."

Agnello may be irritated with her trying to get him killed, but something else made him seethe. That playing card impaled in the old man's head… It matched the bodyguard near the scene. One of his father's guards, one not decapitated or sliced apart or filled with bullet holes, had the same style of card through his skull.

Hisoka had been there. He had been a part of that massacre that killed Agnello's father.

Sybil's disappointment slingshot to recognition as her eyes landed on Roeis. "You again!" She pointed, failed to recall a name. "You're Isma's little sidekick!"

"This is Roeis." Agnello looked specifically to an unimpressed Haven. Yellow eyes glared over the top of their shirt collar, waiting for an explanation. Roeis didn't look like much, eyes bloodshot from tears and too scrawny to be useful in a fight. "Isma was a Two-Star Blacklist Hunter. Roeis was his apprentice, has access to all those resources."

" _Was?_ " Haven asked, perturbed despite reassurance he hadn't picked up the first Hunter he saw. Ungrateful brat. Agnello did his research. The witch recognizing Roeis should be proof enough.

"Hisoka didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood," he said, directing it at Sybil as she silently dared him to call her on her murder attempt. "He met with someone. Must have pissed him off, considering the bloodlust hanging off him when he left." Clown came out of that hotel with blood-curdling aura clinging to him. No way in hell was Agnello approaching him. Stuck to the shadows, watched how things unfolded between him and the old man. "Sent a card through Isma's skull," he added, just for Haven. Wasn't his fault the self-righteous old man got himself maimed; Isma didn't seem the type to cooperate with them anyway.

Roeis froze up at the name, looking like he was on the verge of angry tears again.

"Oh," Sybil played with her hair, surprise absent, "I bet he was seeing Lanfen."

Roeis went from tears to fury.

"Maybe we should go grab her," Sybil reluctantly suggested before Roeis screamed his piece. Looked like he was about to boil over. Name apparently meant as much as Isma, just in the direction of loathing. "She's, like, Chrollo's girlfriend or something."

Through grit teeth, fists trembling at his side, Roeis forced out, "Who?"

"Chrollo Lucilfer," Haven answered, eyes on Sybil, unzipping their collar to reveal a slight smile, "Leader of the Phantom Troupe."

Agnello pushed himself from the wall, stalking towards Sybil. She knew a hell of a lot more than she let on. A girlfriend? "Why the hell did you not mention her?" Instead of giving them a fucking hostage, she tried to get him killed. He knew it! He hated working with this bitch.

"You said allies, not hostages." Sybil's attempt at defending herself fell completely flat. She didn't care, meeting his challenge with a flash of her aura and a hand on her hip. It reminded him she was the muscle. He shouldn't expect shit from her unless it was fighting. With a hair flip, she looked away, shrugging. "And, honestly, she's forgettable."

Haven unexpectedly interrupted again, talkative today. Too bad they spoke in a foreign language. Eyes narrowed and a smile still curling their lips, the amusement didn't go unnoticed.

Sybil grinned, apparently understanding foreign gibberish where the rest failed. She pointed a manicured nail to Haven, happily admitting, "I like you, kid. You get it." That defunct group Sybil'd been with, the Fan Shi, they were out of Anchi. Only mystery here was Haven knowing a useless language. Some backstory may fucking help, but they kept as quiet as Miwa.

Chair scrape jarring, Miwa stood. Her eyes, her expression, gained a flicker of life. "We should go after her." Even her dead monotone faded at the suggestion. An enthused corpse, Agnello raised a brow at Haven. They ignored his unsaid question.

"Hey, Rose-boy." Sybil leaned forward, raised an eyebrow as Roeis visibly shook. Kid looked like he had seen a ghost. Or a demon. "Got, like, something to add?"

"I've been investigating Lanfen Paijin," name spat like a curse, "for a series of murders."

Agnello fought slapping the boy on the back. He knew this kid would work out better than that old man and Sybil. He stepped closer, trying to draw Roeis' attention from the floor. "Got info on her then?" He got up into his face, Roeis only nodding with a tightly clenched jaw. "Anything good? Come on, share with the class, kid. You see what I'm forced to work with."

"From what I've seen, Lanfen's ability-"

Sybil snapped her fingers, interrupting, "Living metal. Has a Nen beast shaped like a bird, but it can act independently from her. It's annoying as hell." A glance off to the side, she added, "She's slippery, took us like a month to catch her between the bird and Chrollo."

Agnello barely heard a word past metal. He shoved Roeis out of the way as he stalked towards the witch again. "Living metal, you mean like a fucking knife?" She ignored him, his hand in his pocket. "Like a fucking knife!?" he yelled, fingers around the switchblade, wanting to draw it across the bitch's neck. If she told them about Lanfen sooner then-

"Most wounds varied between knife or sword cuts," Roeis answered, retrieving his phone, messing with it. His voice lowered, eyes narrowed. "If she doesn't cut them apart, she beheads them."

Agnello stepped back from Sybil, interest in her lost as Roeis turned his phone towards him. A picture. A woman.

"That bitch!" Agnello's fist met the wall. He fumbled, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pockets. A shaking inhale. No relief. He threw it to the ground, the lighter with it, stomping them to pieces.

That woman in Yorknew. Months ago, when he tied up some loose ends waiting for Miwa and Haven to get a plan, that had been Lanfen. How fitting that she returned to the crime scene! "Because _she_ did it," he hissed, kicking a second hole into the wall.

The blood painted windshields, slit necks, and chopped apart bodies. Lanfen. She had killed all but three bodyguards at the scene. One from the bullets of a Phantom Troupe puppet, the second a card to the skull from Hisoka, and the other! The other died when his father's car slammed into a building _after Lanfen crashed another vehicle into them_. Had to have been her, that other vehicle coated in blood, driver ditched blocks back in a near headless heap.

She had left his father alive in the wreckage, stabbed through with metal and bleeding from a bullet wound. He died slow, in agony, his last message after pulling himself from the wreck to the street-

Including that fucking whore instead of just family! Mother was still livid, that after all this damn time, he remembered that mutilated bitch enough to whine her name. If he thought she had survived being thrown to Meteor City decades ago, he'd have finished killing her just to shut his mother up.

"Behave, Agnello," Haven said, taking his attention from the wall and the past. Agnello turned to face the group, scowling as he dared anyone to ask. "We will go after her," they added, speaking like they were in charge. No one questioned them. "If she is as precious as Sybil claims, Chrollo will come fetch her." Haven held their drawing in front of them, smiling as they began tearing it into pieces. "Break a leg, and the Spider retaliates." A piece floated from table to Agnello's feet. A half-torn face, grey eye staring at him, Agnello ground it into the floor. "Crush the head," Haven smiled, "and the Spider dies." Haven's hand went to their hairclips, fingers tracing single pearls lovingly as they smiled, whispered, "I'll take everything from you, Danchou."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consequences are finding Lan, now. What Haven said to Sybil amounted to "Liar, you wanted to keep her as a backup plan should we fail to impress you." 
> 
> Anyway, I just added more sketches to my deviantart (AwkwardBlackCat), so go take a look! Even got some sparkly digital drawings now; been trying new things, since writing's been slow for me lately.   
> https://www.deviantart.com/awkwardblackcat/gallery/all 
> 
> Thanks again, NovaxLay and Xhula for commenting! Thank you to everyone that left kudos!


	48. Conviction: Ouroboros

The airship had touched down in Kou-Ang fifteen minutes prior, Lanfen beginning her walk to the bus station. Nemmi sat on her shoulder, tilting his head. She shook hers, not knowing her mood beyond tired and stressed.

She had gotten onto the first airship anywhere but the Hunter Association HQ about ten minutes after Hisoka sauntered off into the night, sure to bring misery to anyone on his path. Minus the restless naps on a series of connecting flights to get to Kou-Ang, she hadn't slept. Too many decisions piled high.

Disgusting as it was to admit, Hisoka forced her to confront the end-all of decisions.

There was no more playing around,. avoiding absolutes, with wavering will. She needed to find conviction.

So, she came home to think. Of matters of the heart, Auntie remained her best source of advice; she would keep the sugar-coating minimal. Painfully so, Lan trusted and feared. She only hoped she could find an adequate way to describe why this decision was so difficult. She loved Chrollo but explaining why to Auntie would be impossible if she couldn't piece it together herself. Her mind drew a blank and chaos every time she tried to list more than superficial traits. Most likely because it required a level of self-reflection that set her on edge.

"Lanfen?"

She stopped dead. Not the dread of an enemy, but someone worse. Her luck was awful. Awful, awful, awful, the worst of the worst. She considered running. She really did, but… She needed to stop doing that.

Nemmi hopped from her shoulder to the ground; he knew to move out of the way.

Dark hair framing a pale face, round black eyes sparkling, cute button-up shirt decorated in little kitties, Yun stepped in front of her, smile glowing as she took Lan's hands. "I've been so worried," she said, relief instantly washing away that worry. Lan shouldn't have, but she let Yun hug her. Yun's arms wrapped tight around her, Lan fought to keep hers from returning the gesture. Lan hid a smile, bittersweet. Rose petal perfume. Like always. "You just disappeared! I was… I thought-" _you died_ , Lan finished. Yun had met her outside a club, picked her out of the trash and dragged her home like she was a stray kitten. Exactly like that, actually, because Yun had obtained her cat the same way. Then, the only reason Lan stopped binge drinking… She had mentioned to Yun the Hunter Exam, another way to get maimed, before running off.

"But you're okay!" Yun sighed a breath of relief, hands on Lan's shoulders as she stepped back to be at arm's length. Her bubbly smile faded as her brows pushed together again. "You're okay, right?"

"Y-yeah," Lan instinctively hid her right arm, even if her jacket covered the scars, "I'm fine."

"I almost didn't recognize you." _If only_. Lan picked at her sleeve, eyes on the ground as Yun's attention grew to be too much. "You cut your hair and stopped dyeing it," Yun added, mumbling, scrutinizing.

Lan might have complimented Yun looked cute or pretty, but… Innocent. That word popped into her head like a mini revelation. Yun was something corruptible, someone that Lan could harm with actions she didn't bat an eye at. That perceived innocence, the same she viewed Knuckle with, that was one reason on the start of a list.

Chrollo had no innocence left to ruin. No, he was evil incarnate, as Auntie would warn. Lan could never disappoint him with violence and murder. He understood depravity perhaps more than anything else.

"You look so tired," Yun fussed, locating dark rings around Lan's eyes. "Do you need a place to stay?"

She shook her head, tongue tied.

Awkward silence and an expectant smile, Lan bit her lip, looked to the ground. She wanted to run. Nemmi shuffled at her feet, head tilted, soft chirp trying to encourage her to stay, to confront. The only intimidating factor Yun had was her guilt-inducing kindness. But what do you say when you ran from a relationship turning too serious?

She knew what she wanted to hear.

"I-" The apology caught in her throat. Admitting mistakes, claiming responsibility, she… Scared and weak, lashing out, everyone at fault for her mistakes, wallowing in self-created helplessness, she didn't want to be her father. A first step to a first step, to not be like him, she couldn't blame the world for her own choices. She had control, if only over herself. "I'm sorry," she said, quiet but firm, eyes meeting Yun's. "For leaving you like I did. I was wrong. I should have said something or-" A hiccup in her apology, but she refused to give up. "Or broken up with you." Like an adult.

Issue number one on the list: communication. Too afraid of an answer to ask, too far in denial to dare question, their communication had suffered. Suffered as much as a cliched misunderstanding only existing to add needless drama.

Yun dropped her hands from her shoulders, sad smile on her lips. "It hurt, Lanfen. It really did, but…" The near-crack in her voice made Lan wince. She had a kicked a kitten. "Having closure, now, seeing you're okay, that helps."

Far too forgiving…

Lan wanted to hug her, or kiss her, goodbye. A true goodbye between willfully parting partners. But she had ruined that by running away. Time had passed. Yun had gotten over her, not in tears like she likely would have been when Lan had disappeared _years_ ago.

"Goodbye, Yun," she mumbled, courage fading fast. Nemmi jumped to her shoulder, letting free a soft, mournful crow. "I'm sorry." She took a step back, rose petals lost. Yun whispered goodbye in the same soft, mournful tone.

It took everything in Lan not to run the opposite direction.

* * *

Lan fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, sitting across from Auntie in heavy silence.

Her murder of crows fed their treats, the fanfare and nagging of returning home after ignoring calls, a nap on the couch following a proper meal, her mental break ended.

Nemmi dropped a final coin on his stack of loose change, fluttering back to her lap to assist. His help amounted to her freeing her shirt to absently pet his head.

The list remained one line positive, one line negative. She recognized, or perhaps was ready to admit, she saw far more negatives than positives in their relationship potential long-term. As things were. But, she was trying to change things, so…

It all felt like a mistake.

Like her.

"Auntie," she began and stopped. Auntie looked away from her book, eyes briefly on her hand petting air. Nerves were assumed. Lan's attention went to the floor as her voice shrank. "Why did Father call me a mistake?"

"He said _what_ to you!?" Auntie almost stood, body rigid, book held in a white-knuckle grip. Amazing, how she could still be shocked by the things Lan's father had said to her. She was just another thing to take his frustration and fear out on. He never cared that she was just a child, let alone _his_ child. "You weren't planned, but you are _not_ a mistake, Lanfen."

"I-" She paused, knowing that only _I know_ was a whole lie. Didn't matter if she was or wasn't, because she felt like it. "I know that I wasn't planned," she substituted, Auntie's expression shifting back to sadness and regret. But, it was always obvious. The age gap between Lanfen and Fanghe, between Lan and even the youngest of her brothers… Also, "Mother was in her forties and chronically ill." Pregnancy would have done her no favors. Nor childcare. No wonder, then, that the Fan Shi had acted as babysitters. The pictures in that album… Lan couldn't bring herself to deface them, cut away the faces of tormenters and phantoms, because Mommy had looked so happy to be with them. _Lan_ had looked happy to be with them, back then. Before Fanghe had betrayed them all.

Auntie nodded, that truth undeniable. "The medications she was on made her birth control ineffective."

"But-" She hated _her_ with every fiber of her being, but that didn't change expertise. "Minji would have known that. She would have warned her."

"And I'm sure she did. I'm also sure that Jingyi would have listened." Auntie shook her head, quietly, rhetorically, asking, "Do you think your father did?"

The silence hurt. The thin thread of hope Lanfen clung to snapped. Against reason, childish and willfully oblivious, the violence and abuse he aimed at her, she had hoped her mother had been spared it. Because, while she loved her mother, she… Didn't quite love herself.

That was it, then. Part of her complex.

How many iterations of _I don't deserve_ did she tell herself? What if Chrollo was just another version? How would she even know?

"Why did…" Her voice trailed, suddenly unsure if she wanted to hear an answer. "Why did she stay with him?"

"She loved him." Auntie shook her head, between exasperation, defeat, and pity. "I, to this day, don't understand why."

Anyone else, or maybe just for herself, and Lan may try to excuse it with unseen dynamics. But her father, he was a bastard through and through. Yet, so was Lan. As was Chrollo. She never felt deserving of much. Maybe she was just settling for something close enough to love because she didn't think she deserved more. Had given up on finding something more.

Storybook romances were just that. Stories. Reality was never so kind.

"Maybe Libao loved her," Auntie said in Lan's place, aware, "just not as he should have. Your mother deserved better." _You deserve better._ "Love doesn't solve everything."

"I think-" No. _Think_ was a lie. She leaned forward, elbow on her knee as she rested her forehead in her palm. Focus on the floor, afraid of a known reaction, her voice quieted to a near whisper. "I know that I love Chrollo."

Taken aback, chastising silence.

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated. Why? Why did she love him? She had been searching for an answer. Something definitive. Something convincing. A list came to mind, though nothing with the certainty, the absolution, she sought. Because love itself involved the hell of vulnerability and trust to overcome uncertainty and doubt.

A jumble, a knot, her reasons went unsaid.

Physical attraction was always easier for her to explain, to pinpoint. His aesthetic, the associated danger and risk, superficial things she had liked since meeting him. Then, later, their compatibility in bed. She would be lying if she said he wasn't her favorite partner based solely on that.

Reasons more than physical… She enjoyed his personality: calm, controlled, confident, intelligent, and eccentric. Different, in aspects, but not in a way that spurred constant conflict. Their similarities caused more fondness and understanding than resentment and distress. Their differences balanced more than clashed. His judgement may feel crushing, but his criticism, his advice, he never sounded condescending. He treated her as an equal, even if she in no way considered herself such.

He made her happy, in small, random ways. Like the way he would ramble facts about whatever had caught his interest, that made her smile. The fact he did the same when she spouted out animal facts made her want to melt. He always paid such close attention to her, cared to remember even trivial details about her. 

She adored his version of affection. How he would hold her hand and rub his thumb over her knuckles. How he would direct her attention with a palm gently on her cheek for a fleeting moment unless she leaned in. How he would invite her closer, press his nose to the side of her head as she buried her face in his neck, his hands then resting on her back or combing through her hair. How-

Why was this the only list she could make? She hated it! Hated it… because it made her miss him more.

"I don't-" Lan buried her face in her hands, actually on the verge of tears over this nonsense. She shouldn't be. Who the hell cries over being in love with someone? This wasn't some star-crossed-lovers scenario. They could be together _if someone would only let them_.

…

Well, fuck.

She dropped her hands, tears fading. That was it. All this stress and frustration was, in fact, pointless.

Chrollo had absolute control over the situation. He never had anything less. Again, she hated to admit it, but Hisoka was right. The Spider, following orders was a requirement, not an option. Chrollo could do whatever the hell he wanted, and the Troupe would go along with it despite any misgivings. Chrollo wasn't some lovestruck teen with only obsessive eyes for their crush. He was a grown man. He knew how to manage priorities. His relationship with her was completely inconsequential to the Phantom Troupe.

So, why? Why act as if she needed to join or die? Because Chrollo hated answering _why_.

He had told her himself. Before the Spider, he considered himself nothing. That he didn't understand her sense of self when she embodied contradiction. That he wanted to borrow her emotions to substitute what he believed he lacked. She saw it manifest in his Nen, in his ability to steal pieces to make a whole.

His sense of self was based in the Phantom Troupe.

Attachment to someone outside that, to someone outside his control, it must, for a lack of better words, terrify him. It could rip apart his makeshift identity. She was a threat left unchecked far too long. The simplest, now least painful, solution would be to integrate her.

Or cut contact. 

Yet, he had also forfeited the perfect chance at separation. He hadn't needed to call her. His call, in how easily he had brushed aside the topic of Sybil's threat, he hadn't called to gloat about saving her. The call she had missed prior, the most dangerous thing to her, at that point, was herself. Honestly, if she were more confident in her analysis of his motives, she would say he called just to talk to her, everything else a cover-up.

Another thing, unfortunately, regrettably, that Hisoka had right: Chrollo didn't like to let go of personalities he had already incorporated. He remained so adamant about her joining because she already met Spider-level attachment. Losing her now…

She felt like she was beginning to understand the human in the monster.

"Lanfen," Auntie said after the initial horror of a love confession had worn off. Her voice low, a warning under the fear and devastation, she continued. "If you join the Phantom Troupe, I-" She shook her head, hands wringing together as her lips pressed thin. "I can't. I can't, Lanfen. They're…"

"I know."

She needed to pick her standards off the floor before she fell flat on her face again.

If Chrollo absolutely refused to compromise, it was over. No more trapping her with impossible decisions and ultimatums without consequence. If he loved her, at least the way she wanted to be loved, then he should be willing to confront his own dreadful reasons why. She didn't… want to resent him. She wanted this to work. She really did. Because he… Aside from this moot point, they got along well, understood and accepted each other despite their disastrous personality quirks and reprehensible morals. Together, they could be something... dangerous in the best way.

Lan stood, intending to go to bed now that her mind cleared from a squall to a rainstorm. A step into the hallway, and Auntie was on her heels.

"Lanfen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh, but-"

"They're evil incarnate," Lan finished, Auntie almost crashing into her as she stopped outside her room instead of bursting in and slamming the door behind her. "I'm not a good person, but they cross a line I'm not prepared to cross myself." She never wanted to join, did she? She felt flattered by the offer and then momentarily blinded by Chrollo's charms. That's all. His absence allowed for some much-needed clarity.

She flung the door open, serious about her nap. She froze in the doorway, eyes saucers. "Sleepy-sheepy," she mumbled like the five-year-old she suddenly felt like. The thing sitting conspicuously on her nightstand stared back her with shiny doll eyes. A plush toy. A round sheep with nub horns and white wool. _This_ was the gift he had left her?

Auntie's face must have scrunched with confusion, her "What are you talking about?" sounding just shy of curse words. Until she saw the stuffed animal, a small gasp accompanying the curse, "Sleepy-sheepy." Then, she definitely wore a perplexed frown.

The one and only Sleepy-sheepy. Or, rather, a replica. The original suffered the fate of all her childhood things, both good and bad; it burned to ash. Regardless, Lan paced through her room to grab it. The original… It'd been her favorite toy- a gift from Mother. She had dragged it everywhere for years, the poor thing off-white and well-loved. So many photos of her featured the sheep. Like the pictures in Joan's album. The album Chrollo had looked through while Lan moped after the Fan Shi disaster. The album which currently happened to sit beneath the toy.

Turning the sheep over in her hand, she dared to think this replica, as small as it was, was conveniently pocket-sized.

"What, exactly, did Chrollo do while he was here?"

Auntie seemed to snap out of her stupor, caught guilty. "I… should have told you. He's just so- Infuriating." She sighed, rubbing her temples like she had to revisit a nightmare. "He may sound polite, but he is incredibly rude. He showed up, picked the lock on the front door, and wandered in like he owned the place. I thought he just came to finally collect his stolen junk." Hate it as Auntie may, but Lan also kept less-than-legally obtained things. Just not on quite as grand of price scale. That said, Auntie's pottery collection largely fell into his category of ill-gotten goods.

"Had anyone been with him?" That would prove… something. Premeditated gift-giving?

No way had he accomplished this alone. The fact no store, no back-alley thrift shop, would carry a miniature of a twenty-year-old toy, along with the perfect little stitches holding the fabric together… Just, no fucking way. Her brows knitted together. Seriously? Did he have Machi make this? Snap a picture from the album and hand it to her with the order to recreate a doll? If he was trying to avoid showing the Troupe how sentimental he was towards her, he failed. Completely and utterly failed in such an easily avoidable way that it had to be deliberate.

He could regain her favor in a thousand other ways. Giving her this? Ridiculously unnecessary. Also, bizarrely meaningful coming from a man that lost interest in _things_ quickly, sense of sentimentality extremely limited and warped. But she loved it and had no intention of throwing it away. She had nothing from her childhood but scars, so this, this meant a lot.

"No one else came in." Good. She said _Chrollo_ was welcome. The rest of the Troupe should never so much as know Auntie existed. "I had peeked outside, when they were leaving." And Auntie claimed Lanfen's suspicious curiosity had nothing to do with her own. "A pink-haired woman and… It was either a person or a living mop."

Machi was smart, and an idiot could pick up on how head-over-heels Chrollo must be to be handing out homemade gifts. He also invited a Spider not involved in the Fan Shi fiasco. He was introducing their mess of a relationship to them. Without prompting. Hell, without the guarantee she would forgive him.

She turned the sheep around in her hands again. Too frustratingly sweet…

Auntie quietly excused herself from the room, leaving Lan to think. She saw, now, how difficult he was making this decision. The Phantom Troupe may be unforgivable, but Auntie had a way of overlooking some of Lan's actions out of love. Choosing Chrollo wouldn't be a severe offence, should he treat her well. Lan could tell that Auntie had been comparing their relationship to her parents'. She had been doing the same, briefly.

Lan flopped onto her bed, returning the sheep to the nightstand. Nemmi joined her in scrutinizing it.

An unfair spark of hope, but something not left to ignite, to burn. Conviction in one more chance and nothing more. She meant it. She would wear that promise to herself to the grave. 

* * *

Leather jacket, popped-collar vest, jet black halter top, ripped jeans, and boots, Lan wore a piece from every phase in terrible coordination. Her hair was a choppy mess as it regrew, remnants of a past promise faded, forgotten and replaced. Subtle lipstick and eyeshadow returning after a long absence, she had fun putting this gaudy look together. _She_ felt more put together.

She walked through back-alley Kou-Ang with a mission in mind.

A sharp right to a nearly hidden door, Lan let herself in, disregarding signs about hours. An art studio cluttered with paintings, neat and clean works framed and displayed for sale, sketches and mistakes haphazardly tacked onto the wall.

Lan flipped the 'open' sign 'closed' on her way through.

Xinyi pushed her stool back from a painting. Tattoos covering every bit of skin and multiple piercings in numerous places, Lan still envied her look. Piercings just caught on too many things for it to be practical for her.

"Still have your usual tact," Xinyi complained under her breath, cleaning up anyway.

Nemmi lingered, eyes on fresh paint, curious as ever. She thought the signatures on skin were more fascinating. Without direction or permission, Lan let herself through a door and down the hall to another room. She sat down. A bit later Xinyi arrived, Nemmi at her heels. Hands scrubbed of paint, she sat across from her. Xinyi's eyes scrutinized her canvas.

"What and where?" she asked, Lan having _not_ stripped in the hall on the way in for once.

Maybe she should mention the first time she came here was while drunk, sobbing, and already shirtless, following helping a baby crow back into its nest. Before that, she had come across a tattoo with a Nen-signature attached, asked for the artist's name and location out of sheer curiosity. Drunk Lan later used that information to get her first tattoo: Nemmi. With a few more tattoos and a recently acquired Hunter's License, Lan learned that the Nen signature was the result of Xinyi being an expert at her craft. The only reason the signature faded so soon on Lan…

Lan took off her coat and vest, pulling aside her shirt and bra to show a scarred shoulder. "Over the vertical scar." Received from the edge of a card. "I don't care if the other gets covered up or not." A circular scar with a match on the opposite side. The Nen-bullet from Circe's attack, from her protecting Chrollo like an idiot. Also an idiot, he had later asked her why she had bothered, like he still didn't quite understand.

Xinyi retrieved a sketchbook from the desk, opening to a blank page, pencil hovering. "You need to tell me what and why, girl, or it'll end up looking like garbage."

"A reverse cross with an ouroboros over it. But instead of a dragon, I want a snake." She dug her phone from her pocket, bringing up a picture of Lami coiled around her hand. "This snake. It's a whale paralyzer." She had to bite back the snake facts; this wasn't about the animal this time. Well, not completely. It was more so the symbolism. "Don't have it biting its tail."

"I thought that was the point of an ouroboros?" Xinyi twirled her pencil in a circle. "Renewal and cycles and all that."

"Just-" That stolen necklace heavy around her neck as Chrollo spoke of alchemy, of escaping an endless cycle, "I want to break that cycle."

"Okay," Xinyi said, leaning in. "You know when people want meaning in a tattoo, I need to know. What's the reason?"

Lan picked at her shirt, eyes now to the side. She hated this part, but she figured it was the "condition" to Xinyi's "ability." She had complied every other time, and the tattoos far exceeded expectation _and reason_. The crow looked so eerily like Nemmi, it was like Xinyi had seen him. Yan and Tai, she brought pictures as reference, but their demeanor, Xinyi had Tai with his mouth hanging open in a sharp smile and Yan with her weight shifted from favoring her injured leg. The chameleon… It was the same one from the exam, scars replacing open wounds, legacy living with her.

She swallowed apprehension to spill it all at once. "I met a guy-"

"Nope!" Xinyi threw her hands up, about to start putting away the sketchbook and pencil. "You know every couple to ever get a name tattoo breaks up. It's the kiss of death to a relationship."

"It's more complicated than that." Lan pouted, quietly adding, "And it's not a name tattoo." It was for her, not him, significance not fading with his presence or absence. She had put a lot of thought into it, too.

"You're not an alchemy and religion sort of girl. It may as well be his name." She tapped the pencil on paper, eyes narrowed, judging. She sighed when Lan refused to give up on it. "Convince me otherwise, then."

"The cross, he's more or less a cult leader." A passable lie. She had enough problems with people recognizing Chrollo over his Yorknew stunt; she didn't need to add. "It's also part of his aesthetic. He probably has an exact reason why he chose a reverse cross." He found religion an interesting subject, despite denying any specific beliefs aside from fate and souls. "But he's also just an edgy goth," she added with a hint of a smile. If he wasn't in that stupid coat, he wore dark colors with maybe some white thrown in. "And a nerd. He spent an entire car ride telling me about alchemy." How he kept the vehicle on the road, between Nemmi screeching death and Lan's heavy-handed flirting while he also gave a history lesson, was a miracle.

"The change from a dragon to a snake?"

"Our first real date was at an aquarium." That moment had marked the start of something. She hadn't realized it was when infatuation shifted towards something more. "I tried to get him to hold Lami, the snake in the picture. His expression-" She smiled, slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent a few bubbly giggles from escaping. Xinyi stared in wonder. "He's someone that doesn't react to many things, so the ridiculous look on his face was priceless."

"Never thought I'd see you talk about a person as fondly as an animal."

"He's an exception." Exceptional. Special. Important. The opposite of nothing. She wondered, now, if the aquarium, that conversation, marked the same shift for him. Nemmi hopped onto her lap, head tilted. Xinyi waited with the same expectant look. Lan's tattoos typically had one of two meanings. Nemmi and the chameleon were memorials. Yan and Tai were promises. "He's insistent about me joining his cult and I'm absolutely not interested," she said, voice unwavering. "This is his last chance."

An end to a cycle, a permanent mark on skin, this was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Lan tries to get her life together, may I offer the mental image of Machi sewing a tiny sheep plush toy? Or Chrollo very politely, with a deadpan expression and no proceeding explanation, asking Machi to make it, much to her confusion? Or maybe Nemmi screaming, tearing apart the backseat, Lan with a hand on Chrollo's thigh as she does everything for his attention, Chrollo giving a spirited lecture on alchemy as he tries to ignore Nemmi and consider what he is doing with Lan later, all while driving with the accelerator pressed to the floor? Or, perhaps, drunk Lan, shirt covered in bird poop and acting as makeshift bag, sobbing over how cute the crow chick is while she climbs a tree to return it to its nest? Many cursed side stories in this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you Jellofish for the many comments, love when people binge read and comment past chapters! Thank you MorallyGreyIsANiceShade, I'm glad you enjoy the characterization work and the story!


	49. Ultimatum: Demonstration

Lan kept her phone to her ear as she walked. The area was unreasonably deserted despite its proximity to downtown Kou-Ang. Abandoned buildings burnt through and gutted by one witch hunting Bai Ze explained the stillness.

Nemmi crowed in her ear, having long since returned from his pointless scouting mission.

"So, what was this about again?" she asked, tone flat despite her half-smile. She wanted to roll her eyes. Awful humor. As bad as hers. Inviting her to the ruins of a Bai Ze hideout with ridiculous threats, this could be nothing but a joke.

"I'm Bai Ze, of course." Upbeat and wholly teasing, she had an idea of who this was. "You should sound more worried, Miss Paijin. We went through so much trouble to track you down."

"I'm sure," she said, laying the sarcasm on just as thick. It probably took him two seconds and one phone call. One suspiciously pointless call. She should get a new phone and number, since _someone_ decided to track her current one. She recalled the blond, his round boyish face mischievous. "Shalnark, right?"

He chuckled, caught. "You figured it out, huh? Danchou said you would." Why did that sound like a back-handed compliment coming from him? Maybe because it would have taken an idiot to misunderstand the irony in the setup and location. "Have fun," he chirped, line dying.

The moment she had arrived in Anchi, Chrollo must have decided to surprise her. Returning home, it was one of the few places she would spend enough time for him to fly in from who-knows-where to meet her.

The sudden and exorbitant deposit in her bank account was suspicious, too, but that was beside the point.

She should be nervous. His most reasonable solution would be for her to join _or to kill her_. She knew too much to leave unattended; forbid Hisoka try to use her as bait. Numerous revenge-seekers would adore her as well. She just… Couldn't imagine that Chrollo would kill her. Not now. Not anymore. Foolish fantasy or informed observation, she would never know until stabbed in the back, but suspicion killed relationships. Releasing a little bit of control during this final chance was part of the compromise. The rest was up to him.

Stepping in front of a building, peering into the dark, her heart fluttered.

Chrollo, leaned against a wall, dark clothes and hair blending with shadows while pale skin stood in bright contrast. He glanced to her, pushing himself from the wall, void grey attention all hers. Wordlessly, he approached. Lan forgot how to move. The magnitude of her adoration for this ridiculous man in a heavy, fur-trimmed, leather coat in the midst of a hot summer, he always felt imagined until stood before her. Nemmi whistled a sigh as her brain short-circuited, her heart soaring with excitement and joy at his mere presence.

A step from her, his voice soft, filled with affection, he simply said, "Lanfen."

Carefully, he offered his hand, familiar palm open to her. She happily accepted, more aware now than ever how much she missed him. An addict with her addiction in front of her, she momentarily forgot her purpose, quickly stealing her hand from his to close the distance and throw her arms around him. Without a second of hesitation, he returned the embrace. Her face buried in the crook of his neck, fur trim tickling her nose, his fingers threaded through her hair. As his lips pressed to the side of her head, her heart fluttered, a small smile breaking on her lips.

Snippy remark on Nemmi's tongue, she pressed her face tight to Chrollo's skin. Not yet. A moment of silence to enjoy their reunion, she wanted that. Her arms refused to budge from around him. Not until he dropped his arm from her back, the hand formerly playing with her hair cupping her cheek to persuade her grip to loosen. He leaned in, his forehead to hers, his lips almost to hers.

"No, Chrollo."

A whispered request was all it took. He stepped back, his fingertips brushing down her cheek. With a look between a kicked dog and satisfied cat, he understood and approved. He had no right to kiss her right now, even if he wanted to.

"I shouldn't have left so abruptly, Lanfen. Any apology I make, I fear, will sound insincere." The insincerity was that he sounded sincere. More than pretty words said to coerce, she believed that. Because his tone, it was the same. He held out his hand, asking permission that she gave. "Nor do I expect you to forgive me; however, I do regret my actions." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "I am sorry." The same whispered, regretful tone he had when retrieving her from the Fan Shi base, she believed him.

"You're right. I won't instantly forgive you." Of all things, the quirk of his lips, her words pleased him. He found enjoyment in her telling him no. Not a twisted sense of amusement at a flimsy attempt at control, but pride in her standing up for herself. He wanted her to do better, and, sometimes, she wondered if he wanted her to leave him for that same reason. A case of self-sabotage...

A pause, her hand still in his, she stared. Their similarities, how deep they ran, she may have approached the situation wrong. She always held him as something untouchable, mysterious, and indecipherable; his motives could never be hers.

A little step forward, her eyes hid from his. Unsure, certainly awkward and without his natural charm, she shifted her hand, held his fingers, brushed her thumb over his knuckles. Eyes flicking to his, she felt instant guilt.

Reciprocation, even in the slightest, his standards were just as low.

"Lanfen," he said, inviting her closer, "would you like to see Skill Hunter?"

She jolted, almost physically. Her eyes wide, she looked to Chrollo only to find him dead-set serious. He meant this as more than an explanation-less glimpse. "Are you sure?" He had lost his mind. Forget how much she wanted to see it, the risk outweighed that tenfold. He was very much a wanted criminal with a list of enemies. Trusting her with this sort of information-

"It's not quite fair that I know near everything of yours," he countered like it was an actual argument.

"Fair is arbitrary."

"Then perhaps I just wish to share."

She opened and closed her mouth, biting her lip at a lost cause. To share, that was his honest reason. She had been forced to trust him with so many secrets while fighting the Fan Shi. So, now, he wanted to remedy that distance. It's what she wanted, wasn't it? Yet, of everything he could share to find some form of balance, his Nen was certainly the safest. And, in a way, the least personal.

His fingers slipping from hers, she sucked in a breath, preparing. Nemmi bristled, call shrill as he shuffled.

In his open palm, a book materialized. Breath-stealing for such a mundane object. "This is Bandit's Secret," he introduced, showing her the cover: a white handprint on a deep red background. "Stolen abilities are contained within the pages. That is Skill Hunter."

Lan nodded, taking a half-step forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the page he stopped on. He snapped it closed, earning an instant pout. He had more to say, and she couldn't distract him into not telling her. She rolled her eyes, flicker of a smile on her face asking him to continue, curiosity egging her on.

"Every ability maintains its original set of conditions and functions, as well as personality quirks from the creator." A loving glance at the book, his gaze then returned to her, fondness remaining. "Making the ability mine while exploring the personality of the original owner is the true pleasure of Skill Hunter."

"That's why you think Nemmi wouldn't function for you the way he does with me." Chrollo couldn't replicate… her, for a lack of better words. While Nemmi would likely retain his form, aura consistency, and overall function, his personality would warp. Or disappear. Chrollo had no need for a subconscious outlet to warn of known impending doom, nor a remake of a lost companion. "Do you really like my personality so much that, despite being unable to steal my Nen, you wanted to explore it any way you could?"

"Lanfen, I adore you." How he could so casually say that, his voice unwavering, expression softer than neutral… She wished she had pretty words of affirmation for him. She could barely initiate physical affection. "You," he stressed, silence misunderstood as doubt.

She leaned in, poking the book's spine. Not a worry in the world, he let her, with her very paper-shredding-capable Nen, hold it. It felt like, imagine this, a regular book. The idea behind Skill Hunter was so absurdly, deceptively simple. Unlike her mess. Her eyes drifted from the book to Chrollo's face. "What sort of conditions does it have?" Probably not a tangle like hers, but there had to be some.

"To steal an ability, over the span of an hour, I must witness the ability in use, ask the user to explain it and be answered, as well as touch their palm to the cover." Her face scrunched, her palm very much on the cover. Jerk. "To retain use of the ability," he added, ignoring her glare, "the user must be alive."

Nemmi briefly flickered out of In to screech in Chrollo's face. She thrust the book back into Chrollo's hand, trying, probably failing, to hide a crooked smile. "You really were trying to steal Nemmi in Yorknew," she repeated, still disbelieving. A flicker between En and In while she was in Zetsu had been enough to spark his interest; she remembered his _you'd be surprised_ when she had refused to explain her Nen and asked who would? No wonder he had looked so amused with her.

"May I know the names of yours?" he asked with the book returned, conditions spelled out to assure he wasn't trying to steal anything but her heart. "Arri, Nemmi, Jingly, Lami," he listed, evidence more than showing a trend. Remembering her silly names for animals, Lami mentioned only once… He was really trying to show he cared about her as more than a passing interest. "Your nicknames often end in _i_ or _y_."

"Just-" She shifted her weight, cheeks starting to burn. "Don't tell anybody, okay? They're…" Highly embarrassing. She spat out, "Spectral Judgement Nemesis and Hunter's Instinct Artemis." Immediately, his eyes brightened, a chuckle escaping as he broke eye contact. "Don't laugh!" She leaned into him, her face to his shoulder to hide. "I was, like, five when I named Nemmi, and then Arri needed to match," she mumbled, a feeble attempt at defending her ridiculous, edgy names. Quieter yet, she added, "My mother had a mythology book she'd sometimes read to me. I thought Nemesis and Artemis were neat." She chose to disregard where the book came from and its existence as petty revenge; she wanted to remember her mother, and no one else.

"Fight me, Lanfen."

A whisper, in no way serious, a few giggles slipped past her lips. She stepped away, Nemmi banging his head against an imaginary wall. If he was worried she had fallen into old habits, he should calm down. "If you want to show off, show off. I know you're conceited. No sense trying to hide it." Chrollo didn't even try to refute a teasing remark. Absurdly strong, no way in hell would she come close to defeating him even if he took it easy on her. Her brows pinched together. "Arri and Nemmi, it's hard to not hurt someone." She couldn't guarantee safety even in a playful sparring match.

Skill Hunter balanced in one hand, the pages flipping before settling on a page, he reassured, "I will be fine, if you choose to use your Nen." Nemmi shuffled as Chrollo glanced at him with Gyo. Nemmi then screamed to clearly say he would love to slap Chrollo upside the face, Lan's will be damned. "You may simply try to hit me," he suggested, Lan glaring at Nemmi in a silent attempt to make him behave. "I have no intention of harming you, of course. I merely wish to _show off_."

Lan jumped back, aura surrounding her. Nemmi left. Chrollo's eyes narrowed, his free hand to the side as his Nen shifted, briefly built like the monstrosity it was before something materialized. A beige boring cloth made her wary. Conjuration. Something more than useless cloth despite appearances. Bandit's Secret still in hand, he turned, cloth in front of him.

He waited, eyes watching. For Nemmi. "This ability came from one of the Shadow Beasts during the auction."

"They were in Yorknew?" She made a slow circle around him. Nemmi circled above. While the Shadow Beasts were just mafia lapdogs, she thought she would have noticed them about during the massacre. She had always liked to pick them out during auctions; it made for a fun game of hide-and-seek for Nemmi to play as she sat with Auntie.

"Not for long." His answer, the morbid pride, the Phantom Troupe had removed them. Probably on night one.

She rushed forward. Arri over her hand, she jabbed, missed. A narrow dodge, Chrollo side-stepped, book to his chest, cloth in front of him. Concrete ripped apart as Arri gripped the ground under her feet. She redirected. Another swing and miss. Chrollo focused on her, dance commenced, neither serious.

Nemmi plummeted as she lunged. Her fist slammed into Chrollo's chin the same moment as he released the cloth backwards. It covered Nemmi, wrapped him up and shrunk to a shrieking bundle.

"What the hell was that?" She stomped towards Chrollo as he rubbed his jaw. Nothing severe, not even a bruise, just temporary pain. The slight smile on his lips, he could have avoided that punch while still catching Nemmi. He had predicted Nemmi's attack without even a backwards glance. But if she had been using Arri… He would have dodged. "I'm not stupid." He wanted to be hit to soften the blow.

"I tracked your phone to find you."

Her eyes narrowed further. Had she not just said she wasn't stupid? Then again… She felt like her reasoning abilities were better than during the Fan Shi pursuit. This was another bizarre admission of guilt and an equally strange apology. He knew she liked her freedom, _and not hopeless stalkers_. "I figured that out when I had Shalnark teasing me." Another member needlessly introduced, that, she didn't understand that. "Thanks for _finally_ paying me back, by the way. I should have charged interest."

He blinked, looking at Nemmi throwing a tantrum, the little bundle inching towards him. "I will pay for a new phone," he offered, and _I won't do it again_ going unsaid.

"Just… Don't constantly monitor me." Nemmi wailed from inside his fabric cage. Yes, she hated being monitored, but having him able to trace her location had its benefits if not abused. She shifted, right arm behind her back. They wouldn't have found her in time if Circe hadn't told Chrollo their location. Not many enemies out there ready to sabotage allies. Nemmi gave a deflated whistle. "So, what is that?" She pointed to the cloth, subject changing.

The moment Chrollo plucked the bundle from the ground, Nemmi resumed thrashing. "Fun Fun Cloth." He closed the distance, allowing her to glance at the page while also handing Nemmi to her.

"That's an awful name." She pouted at his silent you're-one-to-talk look. Her attention fell on the open book still clutched in his hand. Couldn't be coincidence. "Keeping the book open, that's a condition." Half closing the book, Chrollo took a few steps back, anticipating a very angry bird to be after him the second the cloth disappeared. "Nemmi," she scolded, "we really are just messing around. Don't attack him."

The book snapped shut and back open in a half-blink. Nemmi zipped into the air as pages fluttered. Lan braced herself.

Motion blur. Lights out. Lan's head spun, eyes adjusting from daylight to interior. Scorched walls, the building. Footsteps, Chrollo reappeared, having chased after her after-

Again, scenery warped, changed. Teleportation. Another time, walls surrounding her.

A door slammed closed. She whipped around, Chrollo behind her, pages flipping once more.

A surge of energy with a nauseating edge, eyes round, she watched as two bone-white fish materialized in the air. Graceful as they circled, Chrollo leaned back, observing with an odd fondness he reserved for his stolen treasures.

The bone plating. The dead fish eyes. The sea witch vibes. "This was Sybil's, wasn't it?" Oddly graceful for a creation of Sybil's design. Probably because she only had a part in its creation.

"Yes. This is her Indoor Fish." He showed her the page, Sybil's aggravated face next to her and her ability's names. Print was a little difficult to make out across a dark room, though there was no need. Chrollo felt like making a scholarly lecture. "As implied," he looked around the closed room, "these fish can only exist in an indoor space. They are carnivorous, and particularly enjoy feeding on human flesh. Damage received by the fish will remain painless, while the victim will also be rendered unable to die no matter the damage they sustain, until dispersed." Eyes lovingly focused on his book, fingers running over the page, he added, "I imagine Fanghe created it for interrogation purposes, as well as to curb Sybil's destructive tendencies. Apocalypse Countdown is a truer reflection of her nature than this."

Lan nodded, losing interest in the fish. She had no praises for Fanghe's work.

"It doesn't feel the same under my control." Not phrased as a question, but a statement of fact. His attention back on her, it was easy to tell. Sybil's aura brought existential dread, made her fidget uncontrollably whether cornered or not.

"No. It's not nearly as intense." The initial flicker, she sensed a lingering trace. Or, perhaps, it was imagined at the clear aesthetic tie between the fish and the monster. "Your aura is more present."

"And is my aura comforting?"

Glass shattered down the hall, a hole then punched through the door as Nemmi made his entrance. Typical amount of noise, but at least he didn't aim a wing for Chrollo's throat. The fish hissed as they faded to nothingness. Nemmi landed on her shoulder, wings flailing, feet stomping, livid that he got left behind. Chrollo must move faster than she assumed for Nemmi to lose track of him.

She shrugged before petting Nemmi's head. "It's Nen. And, you know, this is only the second time you've used Nen around me." Silence, he didn't have more than a half-fake apologetic look to offer. Mostly because she failed to answer his question. Despite using multiple abilities on and around her while she refused to use Nen herself, she completely trusted him. That much was obvious. "It is, Chrollo," she reassured, then struggled. Even something simpler than saying 'I love you,' nerves made her mouth dry, her tongue clumsy. "I trust you." It came out in a hesitant whisper instead of a confident statement.

Another subdued smile, relieved and pleased, he looked lovestruck. From her, that may have been as good as an 'I love you.' "I promise," he vowed, expression stone, "Lanfen, to not use that against you. I don't wish to lose your trust again." Not after regaining it, stomping on it, and dusting it back off. Her hopes were never high, but his promises did mean something. And, he seemed willing to try to do better.

Nemmi quieted, reluctant, wary.

"What about the teleportation ability?"

"Stolen from a Hunter pursuing us." Accordingly, he turned to the page, changed the subject at her command. A man. Ghyslann Pelletier. The name and face meant nothing; the ability itself was her sole interest, and she couldn't read conditions over the distance. Chrollo likely held a deeper interest. Instead of delving into it, however, he turned to another page.

She winced, sudden light harsh. A zap and a sting, her shoulder felt a phantom ache. Surrounding Chrollo, his free hand moving back and forth, orbs of energy swayed in time with his movement.

"I'm sure you recognize this ability as well."

"I guess this is proof she's alive," she mumbled. Circe. His threats to dissuade Sybil must have gained him this new toy. The glaring light she recognized. The rest had been the explosive aftermath and the poison the orbs carried.

He turned Skill Hunter to her. "Nymph Dance is-"

"Oh!" Lan began shrugging off her jacket, Nemmi flapping his wings in offence as she shooed him from his perch. Then she started undoing vest buttons. All the layers in the height of summer, she, too, was an idiot for the sake of aesthetic. Interrupted and her interest in Fan Shi abilities clearly gone, she heard his book softly close, nymphs fizzling. She stopped at her bra to cut a strip tease short, walking over to him. His stare was already on her shoulder. An almost wicked smile on her lips, she happily reported, "I got a new tattoo."

Silence. A moment passed, Chrollo's eyes gradually narrowing. Hers did the same, but out of satisfaction. Skill Hunter disappeared from his hand as he stepped forward, closed the gap. One hand ever so tenderly caressed her cheek while the other's fingertips lightly traced over the snake and reverse cross. He understood the threat and the promise.

"You have a talented artist."

"Look with Gyo," she said, playing to the distraction. His eyes lit with Nen, his fingertips softly pressing into skin, slowly trailing along the tattoo. The signature of Nen Genius not yet faded, he momentarily admired that over addressing the elephant she placed in the room.

His hand fell from her shoulder. As he leaned in, the hand on her cheek gently persuaded her not to flee while still leaving the option. Voice low, hushed next to her ear, he asked, "How concerned should I be?"

She turned her face, his hand moving to the back of her head. Eyes level, void grey her sole sight, her lips brushed his as she warned, "You're on incredibly thin ice."

She met their lips, softness quickly lost to need. She pulled him closer, fingers gripping his coat. He kept her lips pressed tight to his, mouth moving against hers and stealing her breath.

Parting, she wanted more. He wanted more. But they so loved to use each other as distractions, now… Now wasn't the time if they wanted to last longer than another few months without the same dramatic departure. To break a cycle, he understood what she wanted. He wanted it himself. What cycle to break, how to break it, that may be where they differed.

Another pause, Nemmi dutifully dragged her shirt to her feet. Chrollo tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, romance trope about killing her in its sweetness. He retrieved her clothes from the ground like the gentleman he may actually be. She pulled everything back on despite the heat.

Chrollo took a step back, Skill Hunter reappearing to resume despite keeping it closed.

With the utmost fondness, he began. "Overcoming the limitations of your category with a number of conditions and restrictions, maintaining functionality with an ability as complex as Nemmi, you inspired me." He held up his free hand, a bookmark materializing. Skill Hunter open, he made his selection, placing the bookmark between the pages before once more closing it. He tucked it away, attention hers again.

"Can I make a wild guess at what a bookmark in a book means?" Claiming her mess as inspiration, she didn't understand. Had it not occurred to him to make a secondary ability to cover weaknesses in the first? Maybe… maybe it hadn't. He stole abilities. He could feasibly collect abilities for every situation, counter anything, a second ability unnecessary.

"Formerly," he began, explaining at her confusion, "I had been unable to utilize many abilities that require both hands free. In particular," he raised his hands, palms towards himself, skin now marked by "The Sun and The Moon."

She still didn't get it. "Why take something you can't use?" All the abilities in the world... He could take so many of them between his collective power and the Phantom Troupe. "Because you could?"

He found some sort of amusement in her confusion. Or that she was near desperately trying to deny she could ever inspire him. Picking up splintered wood from Nemmi's entrance, Chrollo paced to the opposite side of the room. And proceeded, with a single kick, to knock a section of it away to let daylight flood the room. Lan pressed her lips tight to hide her way-too-easily impressed grin. He called her to his side with a simple glance over his shoulder.

She leaned in as he held a splintered piece of wood in each hand. A mark matching the corresponding hand had appeared on the wood. A sun with a plus sign and a moon with a negative… Like the poles of a magnet? Her eyes flickered to his, curious but understanding _something_ happened when the two marks met.

He tossed a piece away and to the ground... several stories below. This… This was the building opposite of where they had begun. He had teleported her upwards? Twice? From the first building to this one? Probably through open windows or convenient holes in the walls. The area, he chose it, planned his display. That made sense. How the hell did he follow so damn quickly though? Had he also teleported Nemmi away? Himself up? Switched abilities? Somehow scaled the buildings or…?

Chrollo tugged her sleeve to keep her from investigating further. "Lanfen," he said, holding the chunk of wood up to call her back to him. She almost resisted. But then, then she saw Bandit's Secret once more. Page unmarked, book closed, the moon mark on wood still there. Her eyes shot back to his, followed his gaze back to the wood, waited impatiently.

He tossed the piece of wood below, aim perfect.

Bright light, dust cloud, concussive blast, explosive force, the building shook, the ground shattered, debris hail rained down. Surely, the last and most impressive display of the day.

"I stole it from a Meteor City Elder," he explained, looking to her, eyes round with what she would call delight. Like he'd discovered something wonderful and new. Like an ability he had just obtained and first tried for himself. "Before forming the Phantom Troupe, during mafia infighting that then besieged the city," he paused, eyes flickering to her to see confirm she remembered him partially telling her of this before. "This Elder had used it to make living bombs of residents. If not for his haphazard use, it would have been effective. He was killing far more residents than mafia." And Chrollo thought he make better use of it. He was probably right. "I stole it, found that I couldn't use it, and handed him over to Feitan." Her face scrunched at the name, but she instantly understood.

This elder had been dead for years.

"You still have it." Despite his death, it remained. A certain curse, she was more familiar with post-mortem Nen than she would prefer.

"It's stronger now than when he was alive." That perhaps explained why it broke the rules of Skill Hunter, persisting beyond death, existing despite no bookmark and closed pages. "I realized, upon hearing we learned Nen around the same time, that I should consider if there was something I could change to strengthen it." Bandit's Secret disappearing, his hand found the small of her back, invited her a step closer, clingier than her today. Not that she was complaining. "Thank you," he said, genuinely grateful, "for inspiring me to create a secondary ability to circumvent the restrictions of the first."

Her face felt hot when it certainly shouldn't. Praise would be the death of her. Especially over something so unnecessary. Had he… really not considered it before? Adapting Skill Hunter upon gaining more experience? Or had he gotten so caught up in stealing abilities to admire that he forgot he had one of his very own to explore?

A lapse spent staring outside, at pigeons and crows fleeing perches following the blast, Lan invited herself closer to him when he dropped his hand. The pause, demonstration over, apologizes said…

"I would like to show you Meteor City."

A glance, a little tip of her head to look up at him, his attention remained outside, expression neutral. Meteor City, she was curious. Had been, since being stung by those forsaken wasps. A Hunter's curiosity, months ago, but now that curiosity extended to Chrollo. To the place that raised him.

"I'd like that." He wanted to share his childhood as she had shared hers, yet also, perhaps, it was another attempt to convince her to join the Troupe. Meteor City had created them just the same, after all. He seemed to be in a reassuring, understanding mood. "Chrollo, do you remember your promise?" His eyes met hers, searching her expression for which promise she wanted reconfirmed. "That you wouldn't stand in the way of my freedom?" Said in the ashes of her childhood, even if it had been a lie back then, she wanted it to be true now. Nonnegotiable, the overt ultimatums needed to stop.

"I do, Lanfen." He glanced away, evasive or guilty. "I meant it, though I have perhaps not expressed it as I should have." Pondering, yet his attention remained downcast opposed to skyward. He could play any part he wished, hopeless romantic and lovestruck fool just two of many. "Rather, I know I haven't." But, for her, he seemed ready to accept the challenge of playing himself.

Whether he would do more than consider and reassure remained to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone that read, commented, and/or left kudos! 
> 
> Onward to Meteor City, then! Next chapter will be an absolute monster to edit- as I believe it is the longest chapter thus far- so it may take a while for me to get through it.


	50. Glass: Reflection

In the back of a dirty truck, driving on uneven road rutted out with tire wells or half-covered in grit, Lan glanced out the side window again. More barren wasteland. More vultures overhead. They were hours from the last town; an impoverished place only alive as an outpost on the way to Meteor City. Everything between there and Meteor City were equally small settlements and the occasional group of nomadic herders.

Heavy silence felt like a funeral procession.

Phinks drove, attention on the road instead of glaring a hole through her. Their interactions were tense even with stilted conversation kept minimal. Why Chrollo chose to drag him, of all the Spiders, with… Yorknew, he and Feitan had been the most insistent about killing her. Shalnark sat beside him, his eyes glued to his phone, his occasional chattering paused as he found something more interesting. He didn't seem to care about her presence either way; at most he subtly teased her, her responses then irritating Phinks.

Lan glanced to her side. Chrollo's attention remained on her phone. He had asked to borrow it, then found contentment in searching her reading library. An anthology of her scattered interests, another way to know her, she wished he had a lasting collection of something. Well, something aside from the Phantom Troupe. It was a bit intimidating to strike up conversation of flippant topics with them, Phinks making it wholly impossible with his constant attitude and interruption. Anything personal was a longshot in the dark sure to fail.

"Why a paved road?" she asked, voice low even if speaking Anchian. Phinks had proven incredibly annoying; he spoke a little, understood a bit more. She blamed Feitan.

Chrollo lowered her phone, looking outside rather than at her. Beyond heated air, a hazy outline came into view. "To bring in trash," he began, answering the obvious but questionable. The mafia didn't need more than a dirt road to dump evidence. Driving so far into the desert to dispose of things felt even more pointless. Though, she doubted Meteor City could pay for the lengthy road alone. After all, to keep it from being swallowed by the dirt, there was bit more to it than paving. "The surrounding countries' metropolitan areas prefer their garbage to be out of sight."

What better place than out in the middle of an expansive desert? Chrollo had explained how the city remained hidden despite the vast nothingness surrounding them. Dust storms. Airships avoided the area. Not only because of blinding walls of dust, but because of the electrical storms that occasionally accompanied them. Best to fly around than risk death by electrified, suffocating grit. Mafia and nearby authority also preferred to keep the place a borderline rumor. Wouldn't want every humanitarian group flooding the area to pretend they were worth saving. She was surprised when Chrollo said they had missionaries appear under that pretense every so often, but then he added some mafia groups were devote believers despite dealing in sins.

"For a time, the local mafia communities were paid to transport it," he further explained, unfeeling. This was just his reality. "Since then, a few city elders and residents have taken over." And the road fell into the condition it was in now: useable but rough.

A perpetual cycle of squalor. The money earned couldn't reverse the damage of the past and greed of the present. Even stolen away from mafia hands, they wouldn't have allowed this _business_ to persist if it hurt their _trade_. Chrollo had also explained that the city operated on a series of contradictions, the Council of Elders at the heart. Every action to improve conditions had to be weighed against losing the life-line that was the mafia, their stranglehold tight. Improve too much, and the mafia would raze the city. Let the city raze itself, and the city would eventually die, taking valuable mafia resources with it.

The horizon line, a city of chaotic structures stretched before them. Nothing planned, buildings of mismatched, scavenged materials sat beyond makeshift tents and trash piled high. Distant, less detailed, a structure of carved stone. At the heart of the city, perhaps once opulent, now erosion-worn, threatening to crumble to dust, ruins from a lost time. A scattering of multi-story buildings surrounded the ancient tower.

"Who built a city here?"

"A dictator. Perhaps a cult." No definitive answer, history lost to time. He leaned back in his seat, blindly offering her phone. She pocketed it, eyes never leaving the growing outline of a junkyard city. "What remains of the murals in the council's chambers paint the city as an oasis, an emerald in vast desert. Surrounding cultures had once likened it to the Garden of Eden or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon." She smiled bitterly in his place; this was more a vision of hell than the biblical home of humanity, nor a lost wonder of the world. "What remains of this supposed oasis is an aquifer deep beneath the city."

Silence fell, Lan watching as silhouettes gained detail. Trash mountains, narrow paths dug through debris, the smell hit her nose kilometers ago, only now growing worse. A breeze and the sickly smell of rot was overpowered by a chemical stench. Industrial waste. A crater carved in the ground, they had the sense to separate it from everything else, but busted containers were inevitable. Seeping into the ground, down to the water, the fact anything could survive here was a twisted miracle.

"Phinks," Chrollo said, "stop here, please."

Phinks looked over his shoulder, question stuck in his mouth as his foot pressed the brake to come to a slow stop. Despite looking forward again, she felt Phinks aim a glare at her through the rearview mirror. She glared right back until Nemmi shuffled on her lap. A door opening, she glanced at Chrollo, meeting eyes to catch the cue to leave with him.

Outside, in the sweltering heat, her nose wrinkled. She thought she could handle most smells aside from smoke, ash, and formaldehyde, but this may best her if she didn't adjust soon. No wonder Chrollo had recommended she take his bandana to cover up… Not that it'd help much.

Nemmi chirped, ruffling his feathers at movement.

People. From a wide range of ages. The youngest, a kid barely past five, followed the lead of a woman beyond her fifties, no familial resemblance to be had. Three pre-teens picked apart a different pile of trash at an older teen's command. Four adults worked to move the carcass of a vehicle from its precarious perch. A person, face hidden by a respirator and makeshift hazmat suit, inventoried findings under a tarp tent. A few gave them a flicker of attention, Chrollo apparently enough to kill curiosity. They were more concerned with surviving the day.

The truck pulled away.

They were staying somewhere towards the city center, away from the trash piles. Stopping on the outskirts, she waited for Chrollo. With Nemmi, she was hardly in need of careful directions in and out of the junkyard maze for her solo research trips.

How Chrollo managed to walk silently, avoid the myriad of trash of the ground, showed practice. "This is near where I grew up."

"I…" Trash and more trash, she expected the worst and he delivered.

"New arrivals often find themselves here," he continued, hushed, a step ahead of her as she followed. "I assume we did as well." For once _we_ didn't include her, nor, perhaps, the Phantom Troupe. We? The question stuck on her tongue too long.

Screaming, shouting, a crash, then banging. She stopped long before Chrollo; he even seemed perplexed by why she had bothered. Behind them, the scattering of workers, one had vanished. The teen and one of the adults shoved at the husk of a car. The other adults still atop the trash pile from where the vehicle had crashed down shook their heads at a lost cause, returning to work before their boss left the shade to yell. The old woman and child kept their heads down. The other children reluctantly trailed after the older teen as they gave up as well. No point in retrieving a crushed body with work still to be done.

Not a tear among them. Either too dehydrated or too desensitized.

She turned away like the rest of them. Chrollo said nothing, this so commonplace the fact she mustered even the tiniest blank-faced fuck in looking probably a touching display. No wonder she ended up doing the emotional labor in this relationship; desensitization and depersonalization were a result and a symptom.

He didn't give her a second opportunity to question we; he may have dodged it regardless of distraction or not.

Walking again, he said, "I felt I understood you better after visiting the compound. I thought, perhaps, this would offer you similar insight." A trade, an advanced form of 'a question for a question,' this was indeed an attempt to play by her rules. Her expectations were now a little higher than mere attempts. "Yet, given you are more prone to empathy, perhaps that was an incorrect assumption." He fixated on empathy, but it was more than just that. Like her, yet somehow worse, avoid, distract, repress, everything negative he left to fester far from sight. Answering an emotional _why_ required self-reflection, and with such a damaged sense of self… "It was not my intention to gain your pity through this."

"I believe you, Chrollo." This wasn't an attempt to manipulate her through painting himself as a victim. With everything he had done, the absolute monster he was aware he had become with no intent to change, childhood trauma was an explanation and an origin not an excuse. "I understand," she added, quiet. She understood and accepted, because she was the same. Never to the same scale, but the same, nonetheless.

* * *

Chrollo sat on the edge of the bed as Lanfen looked around, expression absent.

They had arrived at the city center not long ago, their sweltering walk from the trash heaped outskirts inward largely uneventful and nearing tense with silence.

Meteor City was… A lot to take in as an outsider, he supposed. Lanfen had admitted to being in poverty-stricken areas while on Hunter work; she had some idea what to expect, but also said Meteor City was by far the worst she had seen for the mere fact of scale.

"I once considered a place like this luxurious," he said, the underwhelming room not holding her attention.

They were staying in a multi-story apartment building at the heart of the city. Built within the last two decades, entrance at the ground floor, two bedrooms on the second floor, a small furnished kitchen and living space, a bathroom, running water, and reliable electricity, it was the lap of luxury in Meteor City terms. Only elders and residents accepting mafia bribes lived better.

When he had joined the mafia, left the city for the first time, he saw the difference.

As she threw her coat over his, both on the chair opposite of the bed beside a small table, he realized another thing he should share if he were to even pretend to return what she had already given. His version of her disillusionment when becoming a Hunter: how he had joined the mafia to learn Nen, his brief time within it, the work he had involved himself in.

Instead, he brushed the thought aside. Much like he had earlier, now without an attempt to bring it up before then retracting the offer. It felt crueler to dangle an opportunity in front of her than to never give it, though he knew that it was ultimately just as cruel. He was testing her patience and kindness while taking advantage of her fear of abandonment and damaged self-worth.

"Do you mind sharing the room with me?"

He would say she had been distant, but it was more complex than a single word could define. If anything, since fetching her a few days ago in Kou-Ang, she had been more harmlessly affectionate than ever. Instead of a typical reunion spent in physical pleasure, everything had been innocent. Shy touches, her hand on his cheek, her fingers lacing with his, her lips pressing soft kisses to his, her affection pleaded with him.

He both loathed and adored it.

He understood, given their propensity to use sex as a distraction, but… The exorcism had complicated intimacy on all levels. He missed having her in bed with him. Rather, he missed seeing the expression in her eyes and having her body pressed tight against his. For, ultimately, his own pleasure. It was easier to explain it like that than to say he enjoyed how blissfully content she looked because of him, that he got some sort of high off that as much as getting off to her body. However, whenever she had caught a glimpse of the exorcist's creature, the mood had died. Violently. The few times it brushed against her, she quite literally escaped from under him to run off, face contorted with disgust. Her face buried in pillows or blankets with him behind her, the bare minimum contact between their bodies, he decided it wasn't as enjoyable… because it lacked the intimacy he had come to expect when with her.

It almost felt like she was teasing him now, unbuttoning her vest, slipping it from bare shoulders.

She sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his, her thigh pressed against his. Her eyes met his, a slight tilt of her head emphasizing, "Why wouldn't we share?"

Rhetorical, or perhaps allusion, he shook his head, brushing the matter aside. She shrugged off another missed opportunity, setting to work on unlacing her boots, face hidden by her hair. Sleeveless shirt leaving her shoulder exposed, the top edge of a cross and snake visible, his eyes narrowed.

A broken ouroboros. A memorial or a vow, he was to choose how he wanted their cycle broken. Marked in skin, permanent, he had pushed her to a breaking point by cornering her with ultimatums. Bizarre, the pride in her finally making a decision despite how inconvenient it was for him.

He didn't want to lose her, he knew that, yet… He wasn't ready to give up on integrating her into the Spider either. Silence on the matter was the only option she left him; an overt demand and she would be gone. Trying to introduce her to the idea through Meteor City, through having her meet other members, she wasn't falling for it, always one for suspicion. She made her decision, and, as it stood, it was a firm _fuck you, no thanks_.

A buzz in the silence. She finished pulling off her boots, kicking them under the bed before taking out her phone. Her face scrunched more and more the longer she looked.

He leaned in, curious. "Something unpleasant?" Underneath Meteor City grim, he could still smell floral soap stubbornly clinging to her hair and skin.

The screen went black. Kept in her hand as she let herself fall backward, she must have decided not to reply. He shifted, still sitting beside her but now able to lean forward and brush wayward locks of hair into place. Before he could do more than think to trail his fingers from her face, follow the curve of her jaw and down her neck to her chest, Nemmi appeared. Standing above her head, well within strike range, the bird titled its head, eye narrowed as if daring him.

He dared.

He let himself fall on the bed beside her, lying on his side, his hand still cupping her cheek. Nemmi silently complained about his arm _incidentally_ resting on her chest. To resort to such petty actions, he didn't like this frustration. It would be solved if he just answered any personal question she aimed at him. If he explained he just wanted to _cuddle_ , because, if he were honest, he wanted that, _missed_ that, more than sex, she would give in… Because she wanted intimacy, too. He was the one denying himself. Denying them.

Meeting her eyes, she wore the same expression as Nemmi.

So few things managed to frustrate him. He always had the control necessary to remain perpetually calm. Lanfen and Hisoka were his version of chaos.

Lanfen sighed, her hand resting over his. "Just Hisoka." As her brows pushed into a frown, he mirrored her. "Again," she added, wickedness in her eyes. The same glimmer and twist of anger, sadness, and frustration as when she revealed an ultimatum of her own. Inconvenient to him in every way, but the fact she was ready to stand up to him, the swell of warmth in his chest, he was so proud of her.

"Unpleasant indeed," he muttered, the subject brought up for a reason more than three words could explain.

"When the election ended, we spoke. About you." Hisoka was obsessive; bringing him up while speaking with Lanfen, that hardly deviated from normal. "And _not_ about fighting you." He found no trace of a lie in her expression. "Not a _single_ mention."

"He truly is troublesome."

"Hisoka seemed quite adamant that he needed to intervene before I ended up dead over-" Her eyes went to the side, conviction broken down to a tiny voice trailing to morose, uncertain silence. "Over something as ridiculous as unrequited..."

"As unrequited love." He had meant it, but retracting it as he had… Even now, he hesitated to say it aloud. She thought he had been lying in some capacity. _He_ thought he was lying. Or, at least, he found it easier to consider the truth a mere half-truth.

"He wants to fight me again," she whispered, fear transparent in her eyes. How open she had become with him… Forced blank expressions, curt responses, and touch adverse, he remembered how standoffish she was in the beginning. The change. The trust. The love. How little he changed. How little he seemed to trust her. How little he seemed to love her. "And I…" Her fingers clutched his as she pressed his palm to her cheek. "I think I want to try one last time. To put everything to rest."

"I understand, Lanfen." She was rightly terrified of Hisoka. In a combat high he became positively manic, desire overtaking reason. To confront him without help, the risk wouldn't be worth the closure. Her father. Fanghe. He didn't want to deny her a final chance at confronting him. "Do you still care that I plan to kill him?"

"You can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped."

* * *

Roeis sat across from Haven. They ignored him, hatch-mark shading more important than any of his concerns.

Not a week into this, shock passed, anger simmering, inactivity eating him, Roeis questioned if he should be here.

A kid definitely shouldn't be.

Chain smoker at home on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he laughed at some reality show, he wasn't doing anything obvious to further their supposed goal. Add alcohol and the room would reek like a sleazy bar. Maybe, for mafia scum, that was home. Hole in the wall, ash smoldering on the carpet, takeout containers tossed _near_ the trash, Agnello didn't care it was rented space in an upscale hotel. Roeis glanced back to Haven, brows pushed together. A joke or not, a man in his twenties shouldn't be flirting with a teenager, either.

The serial murderer had escaped to go who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. Sybil's absence or presence were equally unnerving. A few days ago, Haven had been speaking with Sybil. Lengthy discussions, presumably in Anchian, Roeis could only pick out _Fan Shi, Paijin, Lanfen,_ and _Chrollo_. Agnello's attempt to translate the conversation ended with a pen through his phone, almost his hand. Whatever Haven had said, Sybil looked delighted.

Out of the assembly of criminals, he wondered how Miwa fell into the picture. Pelletier, a husband-wife team of Hunters, he recognized her. Barely. The young woman on the Hunter site and the sleepless husk that had been in front of him… In the past, Isma had mentioned the name in passing, warned that even the strongest broke under their line of work. Roeis and Lino dug further. Miwa had disappeared after selling her and her husband's Hunter licenses, as well as everything else they owned. A few thought she had killed herself, a mission failure a month prior having left her husband horrifically injured and in a coma.

Miwa, before leaving yesterday, she had pulled Roeis aside. She told him to watch Haven, to not leave them alone with Agnello. Not out of concern for Haven, but rather of Haven. Mistrustful, if not scared, of the kid, Roeis was missing key information.

Roeis glanced back at Haven. Yellow eyes focused on paper, they kept drawing. A young woman, the same single-pearl hairclips in her dark hair that were now in Haven's. Mother? Sister? Either way, not familial but adoptive. He guessed she was Anchian; she looked it. It would also make sense for Haven to speak an otherwise useless language if the woman was Anchian herself. Half the time, Haven crumpled up drawings of her before disappearing from the room.

The young man they occasionally drew, however, they tore apart his face with a look of satisfaction every single time. He looked a bit like Agnello, actually. Sybil knew whoever it was, laughing, saying, "Like, same."

"Why," he carefully began, tiniest aura present, Haven's eyes not lifting from paper, "are you here?"

Silence. The air thickened, chilled, as Haven's eyes narrowed and rose. Venomous. Intimidating. The bloodlust in their aura told Roeis to quit his attempt at using his ability before Haven decided he wasn't needed. As bizarre as it was, the kid was acting as ringleader _and the others were following_. Their grip on the pen, Nen reinforcing it, Roeis backed down before it was forced through his skull.

Method of attempted murder reminded him of Lanfen and Chrollo's spree from Devana to Cenvien.

Haven pulled the shirt collar away from their mouth. "Why are you here, Roeis?" A simple question, hostility suddenly gone.

For Isma. Agnello had explained the situation while Roeis had drowned in sorrow. He still choked on the name, chose to keep quiet since Haven must have asked it rhetorically.

"Roeis, the Phantom Troupe took from us." Stress fell unnaturally on _us_. "For you and me, without cause."

He made sure to stifle his Nen entirely, Haven's back under control to give him no excuses. Another question and aura paired would earn him a pen to the face. "What do you mean?" He was hesitant to claim similarities between them.

"Miwa and her husband," Haven began, knowing more than Roeis would have assumed, "they sought to collect a bounty on the Phantom Troupe. They knew the risks. She caused and added to her own misery, taking a member." His eyes went wide. No source mentioned success in taking a member. Venomous eyes drifted from Roeis, their voice raising from a covert hiss. "Agnello is just spoiled mafia scum that should perhaps join the conversation instead of eavesdropping."

Agnello raised a hand, middle finger up at the offer. "Not interested in your short stories, sweetheart."

Haven scowled before looking back to Roeis, continuing like Agnello didn't exist. "Sybil is quite petty. She allowed them to steal from her, only her outstanding stupidity to blame." Eyes narrowed, Haven stood. "But us-" Their hand slammed onto the table, fingers clawing to crumple their drawing as they leaned forward. Roeis fought flinching back. "They took from me the same as they took from you."

"Who are you?"

Haven blinked, anger ebbing. They straightened their back, returning personal space. "No one." Picking at crumpled paper, smoothing creases, Haven whispered, added, "A resident of Meteor City." Smudging wet ink on fingers, drawing beyond fixing, they gave up, abandoned it on the table. The pulled the shirt collar back over their mouth. A few steps, they stopped behind him. "Do you understand, Roeis? The little I had, they stole. All to play as a misfit family." Muffled, meaningful, "I can't forgive him."

As they walked away, Roeis carefully reached for the abandoned drawing. The seldom glance over their shoulder or across the table, a closer look, maybe it would be insightful. Writing stole attention. _The Fan Shi had been in contact with a Hunter during their pursuit of the Lanfen. Investigate them._ No name, but a phone number followed.

Roeis' eyes shot back to Haven. They raised a hand, finger to their lips as their attention drifted to Agnello.

Haven left the room. Roeis shoved the paper in his pocket.

When Miwa returned, he'd call, investigate as requested. Miwa had asked him to not allow Agnello and Haven alone unmonitored; he didn't want to find out why, although Haven's actions gave him a hint. They were playing everyone against each other. May just be to keep control over them, but he wouldn't rule out ulterior motives in a group like this.

Roeis approached the couch, reality show bickering irking him as much as the trash on the floor. He grabbed the trash can, caving, picking up containers before the room smelled like rot and smoke. Bugs were going to gather; he thought had seen some already, little things the size of fleas. It was Roeis's name on the bill…

Agnello laughed as Roeis cleaned up his mess. "Haven's a real piece of work, aren't they?" Agnello flicked his lighter open, playing with sparks. "I think they have something on Miwa. Something they're using to keep her in line." Roeis felt the same; Miwa may want the Troupe dead but allowing Haven to take charge seemed odd for a former Hunter of some esteem. Agnello fished a cigarette from his pocket, gaudy gold cross necklace catching light. He sank into the sofa, cigarette in his lips as he lit it. He would leave an indent if he stayed on it for much longer. "She tell you to keep an eye on us?"

"You don't seem very invested in this." Roeis frowned, stuffing a final container into the trash before tying the bag. His fingers poked through plastic at his too tight grip. This nonchalance… "In taking revenge." Roeis felt his stomach twist. He hated to say it. To admit it. He was out seeking revenge. Even if it was the only foreseeable way to bring about justice for Isma, revenge was a dirty practice.

"It's a formality," Angello said between puffs of smoke. "Honestly, if Haven hadn't approached me, I wouldn't have done more than curse their names and move on like the rest of the mafia. Provoking the Troupe is how you end up dead." He wondered, of all mafia members with grudges against the Troupe, of all mafia members with Nen, why rather apathetic and lazy Agnello? Did Haven need his ability specifically? How did they even find him? "But I see a more obtainable goal now. Lanfen's an easier target." He tapped ash onto the coffee table before it fell into his lap to ruin his expensive suit trousers like it had the sofa, carpet, and table. "And more responsible," he added, voice darkening as his eyes narrowed. His outburst the night they met, after hearing her method operandi… "She was there, during the auction. Killed someone she shouldn't have."

"Do you know anything more about her?"

"Not a damn thing aside from a chance run-in a few months ago. Back in Yorknew." He shrugged, business there apparently his own. A couple drags from his cigarette and silence, his eyes narrowed. "Hot piece of ass, am I right?" Roeis walked away. "Come on, Roeis, buddy, you know she is," Agnello called after him, amusement in his voice. Reality show must have gotten too boring; he switched targets. As awful as Lanfen was, Agnello's sleaziness carried over to every woman. And Haven. Roeis didn't want to hear more. "Seems like the crazier the bitch, the hotter they are, and the better fuck they end up being. Just got to get them to behave. That Chrollo bastard is lucky to be railing her. Bet she's all bite until she's on her back."

Roeis didn't think Agnello had a filter on his words when around Sybil, Miwa, and Haven, but he was unfortunately wrong. This man, Roeis wanted nothing to do with him.

Decision made, he'd work with Miwa.

* * *

Lan rolled over, arm flopping onto empty space beside her. Daybreak remained a threat with night's chill still present. Chrollo had escaped, his nap nowhere near as long or as necessary as hers. She sat up to find him. Reading by candlelight, soft flame flickering in a draft breeze, shadows danced over his face. He always looked so beautiful in tranquility.

That feeling of domestic normalcy felt especially out of place here.

"Do you need something, Lanfen?" Asked without an edge, just muted curiosity, he interrupted her transfixed stare. He kept reading, content.

"I want to look around." Dawn and before the heat grew intense, animals would be active. She felt almost guilty for treating this as a research trip. The atmosphere of a city in squalor… Maybe, aside from genuine interest in the native fauna, she wanted to see more of its depravity. _Chrollo grew up here_ ran through her mind for the hundredth time since arriving. No wonder she couldn't imagine him as a child. Not much of a childhood to be had, here. Why he tolerated a spoiled brat like her- Her mood slipping, she cut the topic short. Their childhoods were shit. For different reasons, but still shit. "I should be fine, right?" Because this wasn't her asking permission to go out. Pfft, she didn't take orders from him. Advice and concern, however…

Chrollo's eyes flickered to hers, slightest tip of his head her answer. Minji and Circe wouldn't pose much risk, given one or both had their Nen stolen. Any fight with them now would be as big of joke as her fighting Adalei unaided by God Complex. Sybil mustn't be apt to visit, if Chrollo saw no need to warn her.

Lan slid off the bed, fetching her shoes from underneath. Lacing up her boots, Nemmi dragged her jacket to her feet. If anyone dared claim the skull buttons were pointless and tacky, they should know they kept Nemmi's beak from snipping apart leather. Totally practical. And tacky.

Dressed, she took a half-step towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder, Chrollo's attention buried in his book. At least, until she crossed the small room to stand in front of him. Stifling hesitancy, she set her hand on his cheek like his head wasn't already perfectly tilted, dark eyelashes prominent on pale lids falling closed. The lightest press of her lips, his gently formed to hers, fluttered her heart. She pulled away, corner of her mouth trying to form a crooked smile. Ridiculous to feel pride and joy in such a simple step to reciprocation. The softening of grey eyes in warm candle light made it worth everything.

Silent goodbye given, she left him to his books. Down the narrow hall, down equally narrow stairs, she found the kitchen entryway bright. A dingy and weak light, the electricity threatened dying while defiantly holding out. Small generator outside was definitely for Shalnark's excess electronics.

Entering the room, she was disappointed to see two heads of blond. Shalnark had taken over the tiny table with his laptop, cup, and crumb-filled plate. Phinks had a cigarette with his coffee.

"Good morning," Shalnark greeted, mischief in his eyes despite his focus on his laptop. "Sleep well?"

Ah. An insinuation. At least it wasn't an accusation said with a scowl; Phinks gave her the side eye like he was personally offended by her existence. Still. "We did," she answered, taking the bait. They could believe whatever they wanted. "Not sorry if you didn't." Not that Chrollo and her had done anything. She quite literally crawled into bed, pressed her face to his chest, and passed out.

Phinks gagged on coffee. For emphasis, not accident. The sheer offence on hairless brows, Phinks focused his perma-scowl on her. He looked like she had insulted him, not dryly responded to a taunt with exactly what they didn't want to hear but already knew. In that dumb tracksuit, he looked like a frat boy from a different decade. She thought someone like him would be high-fiving their friend for getting laid. Instead he acted like a concerned son threatening his divorced mother's new boyfriend.

"Have something to say?"

He puffed at his cigarette, ignoring her before his brow twitched. "You know what," he said, stomping towards her. "I do." He invaded her personal space, leaning in close, trying to intimidate her with height. Smoke irritated her more. "Why the hell is Hisoka's plaything hanging around Danchou?"

Taken aback, she struggled to respond. Beneath the infuriating insult that she was ever Hisoka's willing plaything was concern. What did he think she'd do? Sell out Chrollo and the Troupe to Hisoka? Why would Chrollo invite her into the Troupe if… Never mind. She wasn't the problem; just caught in the middle of a feud. However, how she absolutely loathed being considered an extension of that bastard. Phinks raised his hand to take a drag, spew smoke in her face. Nemmi plucked the cigarette from his fingers, snipped it in half. Pieces fell to the floor as Phinks glared at her shoulder with Gyo. She stomped on it to kill the smoke.

"If you're questioning Danchou's judgment, go tell him." No matter if she tried, she wouldn't be the one the change their minds. So, she wasn't going to worry herself with their opinions.

Shalnark snickered as Phinks' face went blank at the prospect. "Yeah, Phinks," he pestered, "go ask Danchou."

She side-stepped him as he glowered at smiley Shalnark. He whipped around, a stomp after her making her Nen bristle. She expected a hand to grip her arm or shoulder. He smartly backed down from physical restraint, question silent.

Lan opened the door to let herself out. She would have preferred squeezing out of a tiny window than be having this lovely conversation. If only that had been an option…

"Whatever." He waved a hand, turning away to stalk back to his coffee. "Go get maimed for all I care."

She closed the door behind her a little harder than intended.

* * *

Chrollo emerged from their room hours later, deciding to take a break from reading in favor of eating. He wondered if Lanfen thought to take anything with her; not that she would remember to eat it while busy researching anything and everything that happened to catch her interest. He imagined she would be well entertained with Hunter work for days, if not weeks.

"Good afternoon," he said, attention split between Shalnark, on his laptop with its screen shown to Phinks, and Phinks, leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.

"Hey, Danchou," Shal greeted, looking up from his laptop. Phinks muttered a good afternoon before Shal continued. "Some of the weather satellites" _that I hacked while bored_ , "are showing a dust storm brewing. A big one, too."

"It's dust storm _season_ ," Phinks complained under his breath. A well-established pattern, visiting the city guaranteed they had to sit through at least one storm. In few hours at most, the city would be plunged into darkness, air choked with dirt, grit covering everything in and out. It was far worse, in their youth, to endure a dust storm. Skin scrubbed raw with debris, dirt forced deep into cuts, puffy eyes red with infection, water turning to sludge, mud in their mouths and lungs, they now avoided it all with a combination of Nen and wealth.

Phinks stepped away from the wall. "Should we go round her up or-"

"Maybe you should have just kept tailing her," Shal interrupted, Phinks quickly looking to the side, caught. Chrollo gave no orders either way; they were simply to not bother her. What constituted _bothering_ was left to their, or, rather, _her_ discretion. He thought Phinks' unnecessary suspicion of her was, for now, endearing. Particularly in the fact he still asked if they needed to fetch her; he understood Chrollo considered her important, that protecting her was, therefore, also important. His suspicion didn't outweigh the value Chrollo assigned her.

Why they still trusted his judgment…

"Phinks," Chrollo began, attention on gathering an acceptable meal for himself and, inevitably, Lanfen, "what is your honest opinion of her?"

Phinks hesitated a moment, holding back whatever rude knee-jerk comment he may have made to anyone else. Unfortunately, it was a serious question from his Danchou. An answer was required.

"I've never seen someone chase a lizard around for twenty minutes to _not_ eat it." A glance over his shoulder, he saw Phinks wearing a disturbed scowl over embarrassment. He wondered what Lanfen had done. She _was_ one to shamelessly strip down to her underwear if she were too warm while working. "Never saw anyone willingly keep a snake warm in their jacket, either."

She was indeed having fun chasing after local wildlife; he just hoped she kept her work outside. To revisit the nightmare of waking with a snake in the sheets… No, she wouldn't play that sort of prank on him. The tattoo was cruel enough.

"Don't see a lot of people cry their eyes out over a rabid dog snarling at them. Not like it was their own damn pet," Phinks added, quieter as Chrollo paused. Disease ran rampant in animal and human alike. He had warned her, although that would have never been enough. "Surprised she managed to kill and bury it." Granting a merciful death came with the price of highly-charged memories. To leave it be would be to let a wound fester and spread. As painful as it may be, she understood, to end a cycle, it was necessary. She showed better judgement when acting as the natural-born Hunter she was. With or without him, she likely planned to return to pursue her newfound wayward mission.

Phinks retrieved a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. A few drags, he admitted, "She reminds me a bit of Liang."

In the silence, a gust of wind, dirt hitting glass sounded shattering.

Chrollo agreed with the slight tip of his head.

Liang had compassion towards strays abandoned, downtrodden, their hope long lost. However, her strays were always human. Near always children. Everything she had, everything she earned, to them she happily gave it. Before, in their youth, her compassion was difficult understand. It still was. Chrollo, Feitan, and, later, Phinks, they never understood why she cared when it only caused her more grief. Without joining the Spider, what life she would have lived…

"I get how she found the base in Yorknew through just a picture," Phinks started again, subject of Liang still bitter on their tongues. "That damn Nen bird was a pain to avoid." Aware of his face, his less than friendly attitude towards her, Nemmi would have saw fit to warn her. To avoid it, Phinks likely had to both keep his distance and continuously use Gyo to monitor its position.

Fascinating, still. If a disguise was employed, would Nemmi still recognize the person or see only the disguise? Perhaps, with the Fan Shi and their inherent connection via Fanghe's curse, the bird would be able to express they wore a disguise. Could she, or, rather, Nemmi, recognize a person through their aura in spite of any such attempt to disguise themselves? Someone familiar to her, he assumed, would be easier to recognize. Actually, perhaps they should test her ability to differentiate auras without visual confirmations of identity. She may hold some aptitude, given the nature of Nemmi.

"Scared she'd come beat you up?" Shalnark teased, Chrollo clearly lost in his own little world of Nen admiration.

"I wasn't lookin' to fight her," Phinks grumbled. There was no question who would win in a fight; Phinks, however, would lose in the aftermath. Chrollo would certainly not approve of infighting, _because it was painfully obvious he considered her an honorary Spider_. Yet, they seemed to be humoring her presence well enough. Perhaps just because they assumed he was recruiting her- he certainly was trying. If she didn't join, how would they react then?

He rationally knew most of them wouldn't care, that those resistant could be convinced to indifference. The greatest opposition…

Lanfen understood him too well.

"Your answer has been enlightening, Phinks." Chrollo walked towards the door, giving the order, "Prepare for the storm."

"She was heading towards the chimera ruins," Phinks offered, a few steps behind him as Shalnark stood.

* * *

Lan shielded her screen from the sun, trying to go through photos. Internet connection lost again, download speed already abysmal, clearing up space was best done through deleting things.

In the span of a few hours, she had somehow managed to fill the memory to capacity. Which was absurd. When she had picked the phone out with Chrollo, they made sure to get one with a lot of internal storage and external options; he'd seen her previous phone's gallery _and_ all the junk she had saved online. Picture plastered wall, he had also seen her room. She should have gotten a camera or more memory cards before coming out here.

Not that she had expected to find some many unfamiliar species. So far, she had catalogued a dozen lizards, three snakes, and a peculiar bone-eating vulture. Then there were the chimera ants. Such a distance from the outbreak in the NGL, these human-ant hybrids, were they soldier ants that broke from the colony? How they came to find refuge here… The other residents paid them absolutely no mind, like they had belonged all along.

Her research at a standby, the sun too bright, she put her phone away. The crow at her feet titled its head. A few more hopped closer, giving her similar curious looks.

A screech and they scattered to circle overhead. Nemmi's exasperation aimed behind her, she lazily glanced over her shoulder to find Chrollo approaching. Man must be partially heat resistant to keep his sweltering coat on in the afternoon heat. She had taken hers off the moment her snake friend had wriggled from her pocket, day's heat enough to invigorate it. Of course, Chrollo went around shirtless, so it wasn't exactly a fair comparison.

"Every crow in Meteor City seems to despise you," she said, standing as he stopped beside her. Their walk through the city yesterday, every crow wore death glares as they squawked at him. As well as most everyone else passing by.

"Crows seem to have a remarkable memory."

"Did you know that crows can recognize people's faces? What's more, they can actually pass that information along to other crows." In the past, Chrollo had probably managed to kill a few. Reluctantly understanding, they would make a decent meal if desperate enough. "Most of them have probably never seen you, but your reputation has proceeded you." She loved them, their grudges. Without crumbs to share, she was surprised she had any approach her. Bribery tended to do wonders with them. "That, and, well, none of them seem partial to humans."

The lizards were much the same; they scurried to hide on sight. One earlier, she spent _forever_ chasing it about only for it to hide under a precarious debris pile she didn't dare move. For the lizard's safety. She had to get on her hands and knees, squirm half-way under the pile, just to get a picture. She probably looked like a whole idiot. She hoped it wasn't too dark, though… She didn't recognize the species and hadn't seen another yet, so she was depending on that singular picture.

Chrollo's voice called her attention back to him. "I always knew crows were the type to hold grudges." His eyes on Nemmi, she rolled her eyes, turning to hide a slight smile.

A nudge to her hand, she looked down. Chrollo offered her something wrapped in cloth. Opening it, she found the lunch she had neglected taking with her earlier. A physical reaction presumably impossible to fake, his eyes, his pupils tended to dilate when looking at her. Quietly thanking him, the corner of his lips pulled upwards fondly.

"I came to fetch you from your research. I suspected you wouldn't notice." Looking to the distance for something unseen, she tilted her head. "Conditions are perfect for a dust storm," he explained, a half-step her cue to follow. Mustn't be too far off…

All around, heat scorched earth anything but rooted in place, wind would cause havoc. Strong enough, trash would be whipped around like shrapnel from an explosion. Squalls on open ocean, thunderstorms over tropical coasts, and blizzards in mountain forests, yet, "I've never been in a dust storm." Morbid curiosity, she seemed to be indulging in it lately. Then again, her eyes on Chrollo as she ate her snack, he was always a morbid curiosity.

"They're common during this time of year," he added as she quick stepped to walk at his side. We're here for you, he may as well have said. Whether for the enjoyment of her research or the furthering of his ultimatum, they were there for her despite wicked weather in a forsaken place.

They walked silently for a time, Lan finishing her food. Her searching and chasing had taken her to the outskirts of the city. As the clustered chaos returned around them, the rest of the city must have received the storm message.

Children scurrying in front of them, she slowed despite Chrollo's pace persisting. A teen pulled misbehaved younger kids by their shirt collars, dragging them along despite complaints to play longer. Other kids boarded up windows on a rather nice-in-Meteor-City building.

A cat rubbing against her ankles slowed her to a stop. A well-cared-for housecat, dark color-point coat clean and shiny, not a flea to be seen, almond eyes sparkling, she crouched to let it sniff her fingers. It bumped its head into her hand, meowing, talking with the Siamese genes it definitely had. It even wore a collar, no bells, but a single-pearl hairclip attached. She glanced up to see Chrollo with another cat circling his leg; her brows pushed together because most animals hated him on sight.

One of the younger kids formerly pulled along by the collar scooped up the cat in front of her. Despite struggling to hold the long-bodied cat, they still waved. At Chrollo. The older kid from before collected the other cat, acknowledging Chrollo with a nod. The two took the cats inside.

Within a half-second, she was back at Chrollo's side, eyes burning her question into his face.

"We are, on occasion, a philanthropic group," he explained, answer only making her brows push together tighter. Sure, she hadn't formally met every member and certainly couldn't claim to know them personally, but funding an _orphanage_ felt out of character for ruthless thieves and murderers. "A former member…" His eyes met hers, pause a decision. Impersonal enough, he decided to answer. "Liang had been looking after a number of orphans even before joining. Everything went to them. After her death…" Bitterness at a member taken, she remembered the name, the story, however brief. Why wouldn't she cling to his every word when he gave her so little to know him by? And Liang, she seemed a touchy subject. Something he wasn't likely to share with just anyone. "Her soul wouldn't rest peacefully if we left this place to ruin."

Walking, quickly leaving the place behind, to keep to the subject she noted, "There wasn't any adults with them." Not outside, directing an effort to prepare for a vicious storm.

"She had entrusted them to an older child." Automatic response, he knew she had more to say, that the comment was to buy time. Despite that, in his own thoughts, then, he said, "I understand that they have been absent for some time."

Had she become a replacement personality in his collection? In the beginning, he compared her to Hisoka, happily accepted surface level traits to supplement a lost Spider while separated from the rest. Then, later, in asking to borrow empathy, perhaps he wanted what could have been: a different version of himself, one not quite so far gone. Liang, if she had given everything to save these forgotten orphans the way Lan gave everything to her animals, then… As Hisoka had said, _You're a sweet girl, under that cold mask_. Another fragment of the lost recaptured…

"I don't understand why someone…" To phrase this concern without asking why. To ask despite knowing an answer required reflection. "Someone so seemingly selfless would join the Phantom Troupe."

A whisper, horror absent in voice yet present in answer, "I convinced her."

_The Spider would eat you alive._

* * *

Arriving to temporary home, past Phinks' cursing dust season while boarding windows and Shalnark's blanket fortress maze over his electronics, Chrollo and Lan went to their room. He said they should bathe before the dust swallowed the sky, presumably because they wouldn't be clean the duration of the storm. The powered dust clinging to her from a breeze and moving about, it'd invade anything and everything without an airtight seal.

Lan pulled off her jacket to start, her billions of layers not needed to walk to the tub- alone, even if his offer had been dubiously phrased as a dismissive invite. Black dyed leather in desert sun had been a mistake. Not only sweltering, but it visibly collected a layer of dust. Shaking it for the dozenth time, dust clung. Her eyes widened in horror. A stray sheep escaped to roll on the floor. Right to a stop at Chrollo's feet.

Her face felt hotter now than while in desert sun.

He stared a half-second too long, stuffed animal invading his space too odd. Then he picked it up to return it to the grown adult that dropped her plushy. Lan dragged her feet, eyes glued to the floor. As cute of gift as it was, it should have been left at home. Even if it was pocket-sized. Conveniently so.

She reached out, expecting the sheep to be dropped onto her open palm. Instead, so carefully, he set it in her hand. His palm resting on the back of her hand, his other hand gently persuaded her fingers to close around the doll. His touch lingered.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, voice soft. Her eyes flickered upward to see his attention remained on her hand in his.

She had never mentioned finding his gift. Maybe he took her silence as distaste, assumed he had been mistaken in its value. That a silly, childish, toy wasn't thoughtful enough. "I do," she confirmed, embarrassment over the trivial fading. Her free hand, tentatively, she set over his. He was acting touch starved, and she was starting to feel guilty, that his intent or not. "The original's gone, like everything else, but… It'd been a gift from my mother." And now, the replacement, from him. "Having this is… Very meaningful. Thank you."

Quiet, her fingers just absently moving over his skin as his did the same…

She knew near nothing of his past. Not even if he had present or absent, biological or adoptive, parents. If he had siblings, or cousins, or any sort of family beyond the Phantom Troupe. Yet every time… Every time she mentioned her mother, he paid special mind.

"Chrollo… Did you know your mother?" Words hanging dead in the air, longing for what never was not what had been, always just another lonely soul abandoned in Meteor City, she regretted bringing it up. But, again, another fragment from another attempt shot down. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I never imagined I would want something for the sake of sentimentality." Eyes still downcast, one hand left hers to trace the lowest ring of jagged scarring on her right arm. "Not until I saw you clutching that album so dearly." His interest in it later, the mournful silence as his fingers had traced pictures decades old, images insignificant yet significant because they weren't his. "Memories decay in a way the tangible doesn't. A faded photograph would remember her face better than I."

Wind howling, clawing at the building, Lan understood. She barely remembered her mother, not as much as she wanted. She knew how much that hurt. To have nothing left to cling to but faded memory… What gives something value? Chrollo's pursuit of priceless objects only to throw them away, maybe, to some degree, he was trying to find an answer.

"She died when I was eight," he continued, Lan's attention snapping back to him. He was young, too… Wind rattled the walls, powder dust hanging in dirty, flickering light. "Of dust-triggered pneumonia. Or, rather, complications of an injury that made her particularly susceptible."

Her mouth opened wordlessly. Illness. Another similarity. At the compound, the single tear shed listening to her recount…

Restless, reopening wounds long left untended, he stepped away, hands slipping from hers. Yet, despite the presumed pain, his voice never wavered. Matter-of-fact and calm, if only his voice, he would seem so detached and distant. Agitation shown through his demeanor, in his pacing away, his focus on the floor, brows ever so slightly furrowed, guard eased if only for her. An absent touch, fingers over his mouth, he said, "She had severe chemical burns on her face, chest, and arms."

Horrorstruck silence in the pause, he relived the image she imagined. Chemicals, hands and arms damaged in feeble attempt to protect, in the panic and pain, she probably inhaled it. Not from Meteor City, to be left here after such an attack… To survive, Chrollo had absolutely no chance to be a child.

Turned away, he spoke to the wall. "She lost her ability to speak just as I learned how. Her eyesight was gone the following year." Another nail in the coffin of normal development. All the ramifications, she couldn't even begin a list because it would inevitably come to include everything. "I barely knew my given name when she died," he admitted. "Her name, where we came from before Meteor City, so many questions a child doesn't think to ask." Not when their survival depended on that child.

He had only ever mentioned one other person that didn't later become a Spider: the nameless old man that taught him to read. And reading and Chrollo…

Names. Names were important. Names were tied to individuals. Names were such sentimental things.

So few words of comfort she could find, let alone express. "I don't know if it'll help but," she whispered, understanding one thing. Closing the small distance between them, she sneaked her arms under his to wrap them around his chest. A dubious truth, hollow words, the comfort she had was only what she wanted to hear. "I think- Rather, I know, that what you felt at the compound, it was empathy."

He claimed to lack it, must want it to some degree to be so desperate to keep her, but in that moment, it meant a bit more. Desensitized and exhausted, she doubted he could match her tears, her outrage, her volatile emotions displayed at even the mere memory of losing her mother. He wanted that. Because he had come to doubt he had ever cared. Not the way he thought he should.

"Sometimes, when confronted with hell…" Sometimes, it wasn't some catalyst to change. It was just unfathomable pain. "You feel numb to keep yourself from falling apart. You don't deal with it all at once. You can't." Again, his fingers ran along her arm, over scars. This last year, she was only now starting to deal with the consequences. Beyond that, she was trying to move on from the past properly instead of ignoring it, trying to forget it, running from it. "You loved her," she reassured as best she could.

"I've never spoken of her," he said, breaking brief silence. His tone shifted, deathly calm lightening to revelation. "A sense of catharsis, is that what you feel when confessing things to me?"

She nodded, catharsis close enough. Or, maybe, exactly it. His fingers wrapped around her wrist to lift her arm to escape the embrace. Taking only a step away, he turned to face her, releasing her wrist to cup her cheek. Tilting her head to meet their eyes, void grey was almost taken over by black. His expression softened, forced blank control seeming to melt as his other hand brushed hair from her face, let him see both her eyes unobstructed.

"Lanfen, when I look at you, it's as if I am looking through glass." His thumb traced her cheek, Lan leaning into affection. His tone, admiration, reverence, and adoration, he spoke of her as fondly as his precious ideals. "Transparent, yet reflective, faint traces of my image overlaid with yours." A Spider in everything but name, "Losing you," his voice trailing…

She expected an invite. A demand. An ultimatum.

"You've become something irreplaceably sentimental to me."


	51. Positive: Negative

Howling wind continued to drive dirt and debris into the side of the building. A second day, not wholly unusual, but a powerful storm, nonetheless. The electricity flickered out again, perhaps until storm's end as lines whipped around by the wind finally snapped or were cut through by projectile trash.

Chrollo lit the candles beside him. Lanfen didn't stir. Book resting over her face in dramatic defeat as she sprawled across the bed, she had given up on reading about Kakin politics. Unfortunately, that was the only book he had with him in a language she knew.

She had just begun organizing her photo collections, excitedly showing him what she had found, asking him for names and information, saving everything to her research notes. Her face, her severe pout and furrowed brows, when it died… Shalnark's generator and laptop her only reliable hope, she had worked up the courage to take it to him when Chrollo refused. She needn't rely on him. She had returned without her phone and a look of satisfaction; she would soon be antagonizing them as they had her. He knew she could handle them.

Finished with the few books he had with him, he considered translating and reading to her. She would probably enjoy that anthology of folk tales… At least until her phone charged; perhaps later, as she napped, he could finish reading the romance he had started.

The persistent storm had interrupted their other plans. Not only her research, but they had spoken about doing some training before she fought Hisoka again. She needed actual combat experience more than praise towards her Nen at this point; he would happily play test dummy for her. Their reunion in Kou-Ang, her preoccupation with potentially harming him… While a sweet sentiment, she would need to treat the situation seriously for him to be of any help. Reluctant, perception still tinted by his previously Nen-less state, but she had agreed.

Still seeking something to occupy time, he stood.

"You don't come here often, do you?" Lanfen asked, picking the book off her face as she sat up. A needless glance around the room, to the emptiness, the complete lack of personal items, he understood. She expected, in a place seemingly without bookstores and libraries, for him to have a collection of books- his only constant aside from his coat and earrings.

He shook his head, taking the few steps from the small table to the bed. Nemmi, ever determined to hide with In, blanket bunching under invisible feet, shuffled aside. He sat on the edge, his back to her. "We occasionally return here." And then, usually only after particularly flashy missions. "A few members return more often than others."

A look over his shoulder, she wanted the "I" answer. He never intended to omit it. He just didn't take much interest in where he stayed.

"I have a place in Yorknew aside from that hideout. Planning heists, given the resources in the city, its convenient." While more glamorous than here, the place was just as empty of personal touches. Not like Lanfen's room, cluttered by her interests. "I sometimes go to Heaven's Arena." She scoffed to hide a giggle, an upward turn to his lips at her amusement. Truly, he should attend one of their Battle Olympia tournaments to then steal all the abilities so flagrantly displayed. "Excluding the places we've stayed together, I return to those places most often."

"So, nowhere is really _home_ , per se?"

For all the corrections to give a veil of normalcy, she had never once called the compound home. Only house. The distinction mattered to her.

"I have nowhere that I return to with the consistency that you return to your home in Anchi." The fact even her aunt refused to abandon the place after his visits showed immense sentimentality. He had no such strong ties. "I suppose, then, that I have no true home. Not in the sense of your question." Meteor City was neither the absolute crucible of misery nor the detachment of somewhere distant. In her definition, it was a middle ground between _compound_ and _house_ , but not home. "Perhaps, or, rather because, unlike your aunt, I have my Spiders with me. I don't feel the need to establish a physical location in which to be together."

"And do you feel at home with me?"

Voice meek, small, insignificant, to compare herself to them when he made it seem they would never compare… To voice the question at all, she at least felt more comfortable discussing possibilities.

An enlightening conversation only possible because he had yielded to her will, both offered and returned the intimacy she wanted. He again discovered sharing with her was never as awful as he presumed, if only because her reassurance often echoed what he wanted to hear over, perhaps, reality.

Even if silence fueled her nerves, Chrollo tilted his head back, closing his eyes instead of looking beyond a point on the ceiling.

"I do," he eventually answered. "That is the issue." It always was. To have her as a de facto member meant to consider it no further. The Spider would always be an aspect of him, and to love one's self… To love another soul outside that narcissistic definition disrupted his warped sense of identity. He didn't want to face the reality he had both avoided and coveted. He was human. Depraved, not wholly evil by design, but by his own choice.

Choice. Not fate.

"Then, do you not consider me a part of your family?"

Snapped from reverie, he looked over his shoulder. Reassurance died on his lips. Denial succumbed to contradiction.

He must seem exceedingly cruel.

To answer _no_ would diminish her value further from the truth. It would also completely contradict what he had just said; he valued her the same. He felt at _home_ with her. She was an undeniable part of his _family_ , Spider or not. Instead of stubborn hypocrisy twisting truths, she would see only lies. And, for once, he wasn't lying. Not partially. Not at all.

He loathed it. Despised it so completely, yet, against reason, he lo-

"Chrollo," her timid voice pleaded, so easily shattering his thoughts, gaining his attention in full, "in some way, are you afraid that if you were to change, the Spider would also change?" Putting words to an abstraction, calling out fears and faults not her own, she spoke softly as to not insult. But also, she sounded resolute in her observation. "That a bond outside them could jeopardize the meaning you've found through creating the Spider?"

To question him, it must be terrifying. The issue itself, for her to build up the courage to voice an observation he didn't want to verbalize himself, they truly had reached a breaking point.

To leave him, he wondered if she assumed she wouldn't be able to alive.

This glass reflection, "I fear you understand me better than I understand myself."

"I understand that they mean everything to you," she continued, knowing over doubtful, understanding over hurt through comparison. "That you've given your utmost devotion into creating this legacy, this piece of yourself that won't fade from memory or break down with time."

His answer to the precarious, transitory nature of sentimental emotion as much as to give nothing lasting value… He had allowed her much too near. He should kill her, should have months ago as soon as his Nen returned and her actual use ended. Never mind that he had absolutely no desire to do so, that the mere thought of doing such was disturbing and upsetting; his feelings didn't matter. Not when compared to them. To the Spider. To his ideals.

Lanfen joined him at the end of the bed, sitting behind him, tentatively reaching out. Her fingertips barely brushed his skin before she lightly settled a hand on his left shoulder. He set his hand over hers to reassure he didn't mind, that her words hadn't incited wrath. Her forehead pressed near his right shoulder as her other arm wrapped around his waist to bring him closer.

She rightly feared him, should fear him more. He was a man prepared to die for his cause and he had presumed her the enemy.

"If you truly believe I will interfere with that, then…" She trailed off, swallowing nerves in her voice, resolved to reach compromise without allowing her desires to be secondary to his. "I want to find what's important to me, too." She wanted the freedom he claimed she would have. "If you care about me, please, don't play around with me only to throw me away."

Because he would.

With anyone else, he would. He had.

The difference… She had never been a game played solely for twisted amusement. There was always a reason. A purpose beyond toying with her emotions through deconstructing her personality as he acted the part best suited to the task. Even if that reason and purpose warped as time passed, it was never a complete lie, nor only a partial truth. Stripped of the Phantom Troupe's company and his stolen abilities, in the presence of someone who already knew him for what he was, he had often acted as himself, found himself surprised that she loved him without the masquerade personalities present.

There was a reason he clung to her, persisted despite his own indecision. More than a fever-induced delirium, he meant it, and it terrified him to his core. She should hold absolutely no value. She wasn't them. She never would be.

She was right.

When creating the Phantom Troupe, when being named its leader, he made them a silent promise. The Spider would become a fearsome monster that no one could forget, nor destroy. It would last beyond their lives, carry their eternal memory forevermore instead of allowing them to become nameless casualties of time. They would have purpose. Their deaths would have meaning. The world would have no choice but acknowledge their existence. They would be more than trash society left to rot unseen. They would be more than nothing.

Yet, he dared to allow his absolute devotion to stray from them. He dared to seek meaning elsewhere, even if its discovery was upon coincidence. He dared to have an identity not intrinsically and solely linked to them.

Lanfen was a test of faith that he had completely failed.

It wasn't that she would interfere. It was that he felt like he had betrayed the Spider. They were so completely and utterly devoted to him and this ideal he had created, it felt wrong to have something, someone, that wasn't them. To love someone, to treat them the same even if they denied the Spider… Betraying them, a wound scrubbed raw, it hurt in an unfathomable, terrible way. He had already failed them in Yorknew; actively choosing to forsake them for his emotional attachment to another epitomized the weakness of the Spider: they were individuals, not a single entity.

_Unique_ individuals with their own motives. Changing members led to different dynamics, and, eventually, it changed the group entirely. The fragility of the Spider thrust in his face…

He sighed, leaning into Lanfen as he stared at the ceiling. This tangle of thoughts, while spurred by her, ultimately didn't concern her. Their relationship didn't alarm him as much as the weakness in the Spider it had revealed. He shouldn't treat her as an extension of the issue when even her joining wouldn't solve the problem- it would just act as a cheap salve, so he may once more ignore it.

* * *

Lan gradually pried herself away to sit beside him. Even then, silence nervous, she didn't dare meet his gaze. Instead, her head resting on his shoulder as she kept his arm pressed to her chest, dared to tangle her fingers with his as his hand rest between them, she petted Nemmi to keep from fidgeting.

This was it, wasn't it? Daring to say what she had… She wanted to take it all back, but it needed to be addressed. If he had no intention of allowing her a life apart from the Spider, would pursue that route until she broke, then… That wasn't the _love_ she wanted. She shouldn't settle for it.

Now that her life wasn't as imperiled as it once was, she realized she was _twenty_. She very likely had an entire life ahead of her. Maybe she missed the comfort of her cage; deciding her own fate, having the freedom to ruin it herself- She had the control she had always wanted! Fuck if she had any idea what to do with it, that little positive swallowed by a sea of negative.

Chrollo pulled his hand from her shaking grip. He decided to get rid of her. Even if not a rational thought after all the reassurance he offered in his confession yesterday, anxiety demanded her heart to lodge in her throat. She trusted him, but she never trusted her own judgement. Everything and everyone else decided he was dangerous, so who was she to say otherwise? All her evidence felt fake. A shuttering breath, her chest tight, Nemmi bumped his head into her hand trying to comfort her.

Chrollo's arm over her shoulders, her heartbeat no longer pounded in her ears. He gently coaxed her closer, her head going from his shoulder to his chest, his chin then resting on the top of her head. His fingers threading through her hair, his other arm holding her close, it made his contemplative silence more tolerable. Her breathing evened out, petting Nemmi helping with lingering nerves as time passed.

"Lanfen," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "do you believe in soulmates?"

"I…" A bitter smile, no, she didn't. "I like the idea that, somewhere, there is someone that would love me unconditionally and completely." The sweet notion of love inevitable despite difference, distance, and death… It offered some naïve hope the perfect someone would appear without searching, without pain. "But, in reality, it's a lonely thought." To truly believe in soulmates- "To have just one person in the world love you-" The world wasn't perfect. People left. People died. People changed. To believe dearly in soulmates would only bring more distress with every failed relationship. She already struggled to look for a brighter future; believing in soulmates would have completely crushed her wavering hope long ago.

His nose pressed into her temple as he shifted, his breath tickling her cheek with solemn words, "Soulmates are a matter of fate."

Her bitter smile remained. A pre-written future set in stone… To believe in fate, the muted comfort in explaining chaos as predetermined, in giving reason to suffering, in excusing responsibility, it was overshadowed by an inherent helplessness. If every action and every choice held no bearing on result, why try? He didn't believe in fighting against a predestined future. Yet, at the same time, how he contradicted himself. Not only through continuing to fight a losing battle with her, but through the Spider as well. He was desperate to keep his creation alive, for it to fight an inevitability that he had walked alongside since birth: death.

"Fate is a burdensome belief," she whispered, repeated. The contradiction, an infirm belief, he found more than optimism in hers. He may want back the hope in self-determination stolen by his youth here. Her hand set on his cheek as she pulled away, he freed her from their embrace, hand then resting on her hip to keep her close. The lonely and wicked monster before her, to think love is what threatened to break him. Trailing, her hand then over his heart, "Do you believe in this aspect of fate?"

Their eyes met as his hand covered hers. "If soulmates exist, you are undoubtedly mine." Her lips parted for words that failed to follow. _If_ denying it as an absolute, but, regardless, even through the lens of fate, he considered her his in the fondest way. His hand squeezing hers gently, he admitted, "I'm starting to question my beliefs. Myself." Another defeatist, believing in fate, he hadn't much considered his motives. Change was terrifying; not understanding what you wanted made it that much more frightening. "I didn't believe I was capable of romantic love in any capacity, yet, what I feel towards you," he pressed her hand to his chest, to his heart, "the only conclusion I can make," her heart fluttering, her eyes wide with hope staring into his bared soul, "I love you, Lanfen."

A moment, silence, her mouth agape, butterflies in her stomach, cozy warmth blooming in her chest and cheeks, her heart soared, untarnished joy welling in her. Stunned, staring, but ever excited to share in remarkably reciprocated emotion, all that she could force out, voice raising high, was, "Really?"

His content expression fell instantly. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure. I-"

"No!" Panicked, her hands cupping his cheeks, she kept his eyes level with hers as she leaned close. While his brows came together slightly with her outburst and contact, a pit formed in her stomach. "No, I'm just excited, couldn't think of what to say. I believe you." Her fingers slipping from his face, no shirt for her to fiddle with, wanting to be close, she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I do, I promise," she affirmed, wanting no doubts. She trusted he was sincere. This time. "Is… Is that why you stopped before? Because you weren't sure?"

"How naturally it had come, I had surprised myself." How he had recoiled, cut himself off while looking sick to his stomach, _surprised_ didn't do his reaction justice. It was probably the most animated she'd ever seen him. "In that moment, I wasn't sure if I meant it as a truth or lie." His fingers running up her arm, catching her wrist, he glanced to the side, an expression of guilt. "Either way, I understood how much value the words would hold to you." Silver-tongued, he could precisely control her through words alone if he wanted. That's why it fucking hurt when he took it back without acknowledging the damage. He kissed her wrist lightly before his eyes returned to hers. "I regret leaving you so abruptly, following the exorcism, but I am truly sorry for doing so when I understood how painful that half-said statement would be to you."

A more genuine apology than before, she nodded, silently forgiving him. Causing unnecessary stress by ignoring the issue, it was cruel, he knew that, but apologizing with sincerity was a step in the right direction.

Communication. Exacerbated by their disastrous natures, not speaking candidly led to too much turmoil for a sustainable relationship. As similar as they were, they were still different people. They didn't know everything always, especially when it came to each other's thoughts. She was easier to read, but Chrollo often didn't address his own emotions; she had no hope of deciphering his every thought.

Lan leaned in, his lips meeting hers halfway. Tender and warm, their lips gently followed the other's movement. Brief but sweet, they parted, his forehead resting against hers, breath warming her skin. Grey eyes light, affectionate, she let go of her nerves.

"I love you," she whispered, lips brushing his. His subtle smile, the innocent joy in her words… "I want to be with you, Chrollo."

He brought her close again, not willing to let go, her face then buried in the crook of his neck. Fingers combing through her hair, his nose pressed to her head, he said, "No matter the hesitancy I feel, I will stop pressuring you to join. I don't wish to become someone you resent."


End file.
